


Blinding Lights That Lead Us

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Drugs, Falling In Love, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Music, Punk Rock, Rock Stars, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Remus Lupin is a talented, but as yet undiscovered, guitarist working through the punk and hard rock scene of London in the early 80s. Then he gets a chance- an audition with the up and coming band, the Marauders. His life, both professionally and personally, is about to be turned upside down.Wolfstar, Remus POV (mostly).





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

> After a suggestion from a reader I've created a spotify playlist for this fic here:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/i9gc7i5i1ezzem46ckq16shii/playlist/7jsJgrxh3nsjtLB5jzriBQ?si=DPIadc-yQwS4kIld6aY_dQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters belong to the great JK Rowling, of course.

_I see a bad moon rising,_

_I see trouble on the way,_

_I see earthquakes and lightnin’,_

_I see bad times today._

 

1980

 

Remus Lupin fiddled with the strings of his battered old Gibson guitar. Lazily his fingers ran up and down the strings, playing random notes with little order or plan to the way he played. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest on the backrest of his half-broken sofa, which had copious amounts of unpleasant spills and stains of who the fuck knew what on it, and he had long considered throwing it out. If only he had the money for a replacement.

 

Money was something he had little of recently he mused as his hand continued strumming the guitar, no doubt irritating the neighbours through the thin walls of his flat. Fuck it, if he had to listen to their loud arguments at three o’clock in the morning and their even louder sex, they can bloody well listen to his guitar. For some reason, he suddenly struck up the ‘Layla’ riff, a favourite of his (as it should be to all guitar players, he reasoned) and returned to worrying over his financial woes.

 

It had been a while since he had toured with any pre-established bands as a fill in or anything else that brought in any decent income and it was starting to get desperate. Busking and open mics brought in hardly anything (it didn’t help that he can’t sing to save his life) and his search for prospective band members to form a group weren’t going anywhere. If worse came to worse he might have to take his dad’s offer to help get him work at the factory he worked in in the east end. That was a fucking depressing thought, Christ.

 

Warily, he put his guitar down and picked up the half-smoked joint resting in an astray on his coffee table and took a long, much needed drag. No matter what else was fucked in his life, he could always trust good old marijuana to take the edge off. He smiled, despite himself. How fucked was he, smoking weed alone in his tiny, shitty flat in Camden with no money, partner or real achievement to his name? Not what he’d envisioned his life would be like at age twenty-two. But life always does seem to manage to kick you in the balls consistently and without remorse.

 

The _Thin Lizzy_ record that had been playing in the background ended and he, with no small amount of effort, pushed himself up and ambled over to the record player. He put _Bad Reputation_ back into one of the boxes full of over maybe a hundred vinyl records, though he had far more at his parent’s house. After a short deliberation, he cracked open _Pronounced Leh-nerd Skin-nerd_ and popped it into the record player, smiling slightly as the uneven drum pattern of _I Ain’t The One_ exploded in his ears, after he placed the needle on the spinning record.

 

He was mouthing the words of _Simple Man_ along with Ronnie Van Zant when the phone very suddenly and very unexpectedly began to ring. He frowned. It was not a Sunday afternoon and therefore couldn’t be his mother’s weekly call. His friends who he went to concerts, dive bars and other such places with never rang him. They’d just turn up at his house at midnight and ask him if he wanted to come out.

 

Shaking away his confusion, he turned the record player’s volume down and walked over to his phone, picking it up on it’s fourth ring.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Am I speaking to Mr Remus John Lupin?” A very curt, serious female voice asked.

 

“Er… yeah.” How an earth did this women know him? He didn’t recognise the voice.

 

“Hello, Mr Lupin. My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the manager for the Marauders.”

 

Remus blinked. The Marauders were a relatively new punky, hard rock band similar to _The Clash_ but heavier and not as good. They’d released their debut album, Black Stag, a couple of months a go to decent reviews and slightly worse than decent sales at least in the UK, Remus wasn’t sure how it had done in America or anywhere else for that matter. As of yet they weren’t huge and only those in the industry or huge fans of that genre really knew them but they were definitely up and coming.

 

In fact, he’d gone to see them just last month in their small UK tour. He’d been mildly impressed, they had been good live. Although some definitely had more of a stage presence than others in the band.

 

 “Mr Lupin?” Remus started, realising he had been silent for probably about twenty seconds.

 

“Oh-yes… um… er-”

 

“Minerva McGonagall.”

 

“Right, yes Ms McGonagall. What can I help you with?” It was a fair question. The Marauders seemed to have their shit together and their tour had just finished so even if they had lost a member, there seemed no need for a fill in.

 

“Are you aware of the band I represent?” She asked.

 

“Yes, I’ve listened to Black Stag. It’s… good.” Surely he could come up with a better complement than that.

“Unfortunately, we have come across some issues with our lead guitarist.” She paused, seemingly searching for her next few words. “And because of that we are looking for someone to fill the void.”

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Remus said, “but hasn’t the tour finished? Why do you have need of a fill in now?”

 

“You misunderstand me, Mr Lupin. We don’t want a temporary substitute. We want a replacement on lead guitar.”

 

He felt his heart beat faster, a lot faster. He’d played with bands, a lot of bands, some of which he’d put together, others he’d joined. He played in dive bars and coffee houses, slumming his way through the cut throat London music scene. He’d even filled in as a rhythm guitarist for singer songwriter Frank Longbottom, who’d recent record had gone platinum. But this was by far the best shot he’d ever had. Sure, the Marauders weren’t international stars yet but they had the makings of a great band. With his help.

 

“I must warn you, Mr Lupin, you are just one of many guitarists we are calling. At this point all I can promise you is an audition in front of the band.”

 

Ah, so it wasn’t that easy. It never was, this is life after all (see the ball kicking comment above) but that didn’t matter. He could beat at a few posers, he was sure because Remus Lupin was a very good player and he knew it.

 

“That’s fine, Ms McGonagall. I’m prepared to fight for a place.”

 

“Excellent.” Remus was surprised a word so positive could come out of this severe woman’s mouth, even if it was said with no enthusiasm. “Two’ o’clock, Friday afternoon at Bludger recording studios.”

 

Remus knows of the place, it’s only a ten minute walk away from his flat. It’s owned by Order of the Phoenix Records, who The Marauders are signed to.

 

“I’ll be there.” He said.

 

“Make sure your not late. Even two minutes tardiness will cost you the opportunity. Clear?”

 

“Of course, Ms McGonagall.”

 

“Very well, if that’s a-”

 

“Actually, I’m wondering. How did you know to call me?”

 

“Bane of The Star Gazers recommended you.” He’d filled in for The Star Gazers for a few shows when their guitarist, Firenze, had broken his arm about six months back. His last real money intake.

 

“The Star Gazers?” He asked her, surprised they’d been asked.

 

“Our company recently signed them and so when we put some feelers out for a new guitarist, you were one of the names put forward.” He’d have to thank Bane later.

 

“I see.”

 

“Now,” she said in a no-nonsense business tone, “I have other guitarists to call.”

 

“Of course. Thank you for the opportunity.” With that she was gone.

 

Remus put down the phone in a slight state of shock. In a rather short phone call his prospects had drastically improved. Sure there were probably going to be a lot guitarists asked to audition, probably some really good ones because a band on the rise like the Marauders couldn’t take any chances but Remus was confident in his abilities.

 

He’d been playing since he was seven when his mother got him his first guitar, a cheap, acoustic that came with a small book containing a few chords. After picking up the basics fast he had played the guitar, improving and honing his skill until his fingers were cracked and raw. He’d made the switch to electric at age thirteen, copying George Harrison and Keith Richard’s every sound on pretty much every _Stones_ and _Beatles_ record before branching out to _The Who_ , _Bowie_ , _Chuck Berry_ and so many more. It had taken him two solid weeks to master _Free Bird_ (he’d taken weeks off school and had barely been able to eat, drink or sleep in that time).

 

All in all Remus Lupin was confident in his own abilities. Now he just had to make the Marauders as confident in those abilities.

 

 

 

What sort of name was the Marauders? Remus asked himself as he made his way through the bustling London streets, guitar case strapped to his back, to Bludger recording studios that Friday. It sounded as though they were a group of wannabe pirates, named by a ten year old. It didn’t really matter though, the music did; he liked their music, he reasoned. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to make a few changes should he get the job, however.

 

Mentally, he chastised himself. Get the gig first. Knock them on their arses and force them to pick you. He nodded to himself and was distracted enough he couldn’t see the blonde woman, who looked at about thirty five, coming his way and he accidently barged into her. She stumbled and scowled at him, then muttered something under her breath which sounded very much like, “cunt.”

 

“Sorry,” he murmured and carried on walking, increasing his pace. After that incident, he was sure to keep his head up and watch where he was going.

 

He got to the small, red brick building that was his destination with five minutes to spare. It was narrow but three storeys high with faded red lettering above the door spelling out Bludger Studios. He could the hear the faint sound of music coming from one of the top windows. There were posters littering the outside of the building for different bands. He decided that while this place wasn’t clean and could do with some better sound insulation, he quite liked it. It oozed music.

 

Suddenly, before the door he felt nervous. Up until now the audition hadn’t seemed that real and he’d been happy that his guitar abilities would be enough. But what if there some undiscovered Hendrix auditioning with this band? Or maybe he just wouldn’t be a good fit. He was about to walk in front of three accomplished musicians and presumably their stern manager and he’d have to be at his best. Fuck it, this is what he’d been training for years for. He could do it. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping inside.

 

He found himself in a sort of dingy reception with a few chairs leaned up against one wall, he guessed for waiting, and a desk with a young woman with glasses and long, flowing blonde hair was sat behind. She was currently writing furiously on a of piece paper in front of her.

 

Remus walked up to her, passing a few gold records on the wall. “Hello?” He asked. The woman looked up.

 

“Yes?” She asked, sounding irritated.

 

“I’m here to, um, audition for The Marauders.” He said, feeling slightly put off by her rudeness.

 

“Name?” She said with a sigh.

 

“Remus Lupin.” The woman consulted several sheets of paper on her desk for a few, painful moments. Finally, she found what she was looking for.

 

“Just in time, Mr Lupin. Please take a seat, they’re just finishing up with the last guitarist now.”

 

He nodded and turned to sit down. The chair was rickety and extremely uncomfortable and he grimaced, wishing this place could invest in some high-quality cushions. He wondered how exactly prepared in equipment terms he was for this. Maybe he should have asked whether he needed his own lead or how long they would be but his shyness stopped him. He’d always been nervous and quiet, unless he was performing with a guitar in his hand. That was one of the reasons his parents had supported his guitar playing. It turned their cautious son into a more confident, talented version of himself for the time he was playing. 

 

As the minutes passed, his nerves built. To take his mind off the impending challenge his thoughts turned to the band he was about to try and join.

 

One of the problems he’d immersed in his two days study time of the Marauders music was how distinctly middle class they were. On the front of their album, they wore clean white shirts, tight jeans and sneakers, as oppose to the black leather jacket and combat boots he was wearing. There lyrics too, oozed privilege and any real understanding of the common man, a complete culture reverse from the _The Ramones_ and _The Clash_. Their lyrics were trying to be poetic, which wasn’t too bad, but it just didn’t work, it seemed to him. They needed to be more straight forward, they needed to say what they really felt, not tip toeing around it. It was perhaps why their debut had sold poorly, despite being alright music. The largely working-class punks and hard rock fans simply didn’t relate to them. Remus, as a poor south London boy, could perhaps offer this but it could also mean the band would not take him on as he did not fit with their image.

 

Another problem, a good problem for Remus, was their guitar playing on the album, and also live when he went to see them last month, left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t awful but it wasn’t good. The main problem was that it didn’t fit with the rest of the instruments, as if the lead guitarist had been on a different page from everyone else in the band. In fact, the lead guitarist leaving had done them a favour he thought, though Remus might have to show the vocalist and rhythm guitarist a thing or two about guitar playing, as well.

 

The bassist and drummer, on the other hand, were clearly excellent musicians and that was what kept the music going. The singer too, while his rhythm guitar could use some work, had a good voice and had been an enthralling frontman on stage.

 

The door behind the desk suddenly opened to reveal an unusually huge man, with hair black as a night and a big bushy beard. His face was hard and lined with age, probably early forties, yet it also seemed to happy and cheerful. Indeed, by the large smile and the way he walked, Remus imagined he was generally a warm presence to be around. Even if he was a fucking giant.

 

He was followed out by an average looking man in his early thirties and a tall, though not as tall as the black-haired giant before, thin woman. The man in his thirties was jumping excitedly from foot to foot and Remus noted he was rather small; a dwarf compared to the first man. A guitar case was clutched in his grasping fingers. The woman had her raven black hair pulled up into a tight bun and her thin, red lips were pulled into a straight line. Remus doubted she smiled a lot. Her dark brown eyes regarded him for a short, emotionless second before she pushed her way past the giant and lead the excitable man to the door.

 

“Oh, it was such an honour! It went well, wouldn’t you say?” The man was saying with a wide grin. “You’ll let me know, yeah? It was just fantastic. I thi-”

 

“Yes, you should get a call from our office within the next few days. Thank you for coming down, Mr Diggle.” The woman said in the same crisp voice from the phone call a few days earlier and Remus’ suspicions were confirmed. This was Minerva McGonagall.

 

“Oh, of course! It was such a-” But at that moment the door was slammed behind him by McGonagall, shutting the poor man out. The Marauders’ manager sighed in exasperation, then turned sharply on heel to face Remus. Her eyes narrowed slightly and Remus gulped under her fierce gaze.

 

“Mr Lupin?” She asked.

 

“Y-yes that’s, um, that’s me. Remus Lupin. Guitarist. Here to audition.” Remus became increasingly aware of the fact he was rambling. Not a good first impression.

 

“Follow me.” McGonagall said promptly and walked past him into the door she had come out of thirty seconds before. The big man gave Remus a small wink and a large grin and then hurried to follow McGonagall, his big feet pounding on the solid wood floor.

 

Shakily Remus stood up and followed the unlikely pair, making sure to ignore the bitchy look the receptionist gave him. He followed them down a long corridor and into a room on the right.

 

The first thing Remus noticed when he entered the dingy room was how messy it was. Guitars and their cases were strewn across the room haphazardly. The old drum kit in the corner seemed to be made up of several different kits; red, blue and green drums mixed together, some Mapex, some Pearl. Wires criss-crossed all over the floor leading from instruments and the one solitary mike to the large amps lined along the walls. There were a few metal chairs, as uncomfortable looking as the ones in the reception, some of which were occupied.

 

As Remus entered the room, McGonagall sat down on one of the chairs and crossed her legs, looking serious and stern. The large giant crossed the room to stand by the far wall next to a tall ginger man, who was leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Behind the drums sat another ginger man who looked like he was the other guy’s twin and probably was, Remus realised. He wore his hair very long and was fiddling with drum sticks, looking tired but managed a small smile at Remus when he first saw him. Remus nodded back and turned his attention to the last two men in the room.

 

The man closest to him wore a clean black shirt, that matched the colour of his dark hair. Hair which, Remus noticed, was unruly and all over the place. Whether it was intentional he didn’t know but it looked as though the man had just gotten off a roller coaster at the local fair Remus used to go to as a kid with his parents. Large round spectacles covered his hazel eyes and Remus recognised his grinning face as the frontman of The Marauders from when he’d went to see them.

 

The last man in the room had long, deep brown hair, slightly covering a handsome, aristocratic face. He had a straight nose and bright white teeth. He stood tall and was well built, with strong muscles protruding from a white _Judas Priest_ t-shirt. When Remus considered his eyes, he was met with striking, stormy grey eyes. The way he held himself portrayed a casual, haughty elegance. Everything about him screamed upper class, private schooled education. Unlike his bandmates, he did not acknowledge Remus in any way and kept his eyes fixed on the bass strapped to his chest, looking bored and uninterested.

 

The black-haired, bespectacled man stepped towards Remus a large smile on his face and began to talk in a pronounced middle-class accent. “Hey, man what’s up? Remus, right?” Before waiting for answer he went on talking quickly, the charismatic grin still firmly etched on his face. “I’m James Potter, lead singer and rhythm guitar. This ruggedly handsome specimen behind the drums is Fabian Prewett, that’s his brother Gideon there trying to look cool. The man next to him is our own friendly giant, Rubeus Hagrid but call just call him Hagrid. They both work as our security guards and roadie crew. You’ve already met Minnie, o’ course, oh, and that’s Sirius Black, bassist extraordinaire, and expert sulker.”

 

James finished off his confident introduction and looked expectantly at Remus. Fabian and Gideon rolled their eyes (yep, twins for sure), Hagrid continued grinning toothily, McGonagall frowned but looked at James with something akin to fondness in her usually cold eyes and Sirius was the only one who had no change in his demeanour and continued to glare lazily at his bass. James was still staring at Remus as if expecting him to say something.

 

“Um… I’m Remus.” He mumbled simply. Fabian snorted at his short reply and Hagrid grinned even more at him. James did not seem put off, however.

 

“How you have the energy for that introduction every person we audition, I have no idea.” Gideon said to James.

 

“Lovely to meet you, Remus!” James called excitedly, ignoring him.

 

“Nice to meet all of you too.”

 

“Bane’s told me only good things, I hope you won’t prove him wrong Mr Lupin.” McGonagall said.

 

“Er- I’ll try n-not to.” He really had to stop stuttering. “Bane’s great.” He said.

 

“Yes, if a bit odd.” McGonagall murmured.

 

“The Star Gazers are certainly different but they’ve got some good numbers.” James reasoned. He had certainly showed himself to be the most sociable of the band in the two minutes since Remus had meet them.   

 

“Can we just get this over with?” Sirius spoke for the first time, his posh voice layered with irritation. “I’d rather not spend my time talking about some wannabe glam rockers, who are about five years late.”

 

Remus frowned deeply at the patronising bassist. While Glam may not be what it once was at this point, the Star Gazers weren’t specifically Glam Rock. Sure they had influences from _David_ _Bowie_ or _Lou Reed_ but they were also heavy like _Mott the Hoople_ crossed with _Black Sabbath_. If that was a thing. Remus concluded it almost definitely wasn’t. Rest assured, The  Star Gazers were an oddity.

 

“That’s a little ignorant, mate.” Fabian told Sirius casually, who only shrugged in return.

 

“Er- right,” James began, his confident manner slipping for the first time and he turned to give Sirius a look Remus couldn’t quite see, “let’s began then shall we?”

 

Remus nodded and lowered his guitar case carefully to the ground. He zipped it open and lifted up his 1974 Gibson Les Paul. It was a deep mahogany colour, perfectly maintained and it seemed, to Remus, to gleam in the relative darkness of the room but maybe that was a bit dramatic.

 

James gave a low whistle when he saw it.

 

“She’s a beauty. Must of cost a shit ton.” McGonagall tutted at his language and he shot her an apologetic look, although Remus doubted he was being sincere. He also reckoned McGonagall knew that from the hard scowl she was currently giving him.

 

“Yep, saved up over a few years.” He told him.

 

“Years?” James asked incredulously. He seemed disbelieving, another sign that he’d come from money.

 

“Years.” Remus confirmed, nodding.

 

“Shit.” James turned his attention to his own guitar, as if embarrassed, while Sirius did some last-minute tuning and Fabian sat back, waiting. Hagrid approached and offered Remus a thick guitar lead which Remus plugged in, after thanking the big roadie. He got a hearty thumbs up in response and he couldn’t help but grin to himself.

 

“Just do your best.” James told Remus and without another word Fabian counted them in.

 

They struck up the first song on Black Stag, Mischief Managed, one of their better songs. Remus studied the album in the days preceding the audition and he joined in on the next line, showing the band, he’d prepared for this, he knows this. He hit all the right notes (even if they were overly simple), bouncing off James and pushing him slightly. Remus played it slightly different from the album, making it more jagged but also more complicated, adding notes and small short solos here and there, making it clear to the band the calibre of guitar player he is. He had to improvise quickly at times, he only had a few days to prepare after all, but still managed to keep it going as James sings the last lyrics of the song and it’s time for the guitar solo.

 

On the album the solo is simple, clean and quick. Remus decided against this. Instead he ripped into a solo of his own creation, which he feels is both more musically competent as well as fitting the song better. Sure it’s a bit rougher and edgier but that’s what Remus feels the band needs. His hands glided up and down the guitar, his fingers working effortlessly on the tough strings. During the solo he couldn’t resist showing them he also has a bit of a presence too, tapping his foot, twisting the guitar this way and that and nodding his head to the beat.

 

When the song ended and the heavy reverb still filled their ears, Remus looked up to gauge the reception. James beamed manically, McGonagall watched him closely, Fabian smirked, Gideon nodded and Hagrid stared at him in what seemed to be awe. Sirius looked the same way he had done for the last ten minutes: unimpressed and indifferent.

 

“Shit, that was great!” James gushed excitedly. “You know the notes but your playing it different, yeah? Almost better… you know?” Remus nodded.

 

“I just added my own style, I guess.”

 

“You’re a very good guitarist.” Gideon remarked.

 

“Thankyou.” There’s no point in denying it, although he did blush. James piped up to agree.

 

“Yeah, I mean, the way you-”

 

“Lets just do a few more before we go singing any praises.” Sirius interrupted. James turned to give Sirius another look and Remus looked at the ground, the confidence he’d had while playing quickly vanishing.

 

“Fine.” James said after a few moments. “Do you know Cloak of Invisibility?” He asked Remus, referencing another Marauders song. He just nodded.

 

A few songs in and he began to fucking enjoy playing with these guys. Fabian is a great drummer, all manic and crazy with fantastic fills. You wouldn’t think he was keeping time but in his own way he was and he reminded Remus a little of Keith Moon, in that respect. Sirius was brilliant as well, playing everything perfectly, his pounding bass gave the music it’s heart and soul. He barely moved or changed his expression during the time they played but he seemed to radiate a powerful stage presence anyway. Together they made up a brilliantly powerful rhythm section.

 

While James was a middling guitar player at best, he made up for it with his high vocal ability and sheer enthusiasm. His happy expression never faltered and he seemed to be able to pull the audience along with him for the ride and Remus found himself staring at James for much of their jam and couldn’t help laughing along with him.

 

Time dragged on and when they ran out of The Marauders songs to play they turned to playing some well-known rock songs any decent musician should be able to play, _You Really Got Me_ and _Wild Thing_ among them. During the solo for _You Really Got Me_ James came up to him and began to dance in front of him, probably trying put him off. Remus laughed, joined in dancing and still managed to hit the solo correctly.

 

As they finished up a slightly weird, somehow metal, version of _(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction_ , Remus saw James and Fabian share a look and McGonagall turned to Remus.

 

“Thankyou for coming, Mr Lupin. We’ll be in touch soon. ” It was a bit sudden and his heart sank but he nodded and shook hands with everyone in there, even Sirius.

 

“Seriously, mate, that was fucking ace. You’ll definitely hear from us.” James said as Remus exited the room quietly, guitar case strapped to his back.

 

James’ words lifted his spirits slightly and he knew he’d performed well. They’d all seemed impressed anyway, except Sirius whatever the hell that guy’s problem was. But surely if the rest of the band wanted him, than that would overrule their surly bassist? If there rest of the band did really want him, of course.

 

Remus pushed the complicated thoughts about his future Marauders career out his head as he passed the bitchy receptionist and exited the studios. He’d done all he could, now it was up to the Marauders.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song at the beginning is Bad Moon rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival


	2. One Chance

_I'm so lonely but that's okay I shaved my head,_

_And I'm not sad,_

_And just maybe I'm to blame for all I've heard,_

_But I'm not sure._

The next few days were a haze of cigarette smoke and early nights for Remus. He was too afraid to go out much, in case he missed the call from the Marauder’s management. His emotions were all over the place; he went from worried about whether he’d done well enough, to elated that he’d done the best he could, to self-critical, thinking he could’ve done more. He ended up chain smoking after he ran out of pot, to put his mind at ease. By Monday his room looked as if he had several campfires going, the smoke seeping into every corner like sunlight pouring into a room in the early hours of the morning.

 

It was on a cold morning the next Tuesday that Remus finally, mercifully heard from the Marauders. Surprisingly, when he picked up the phone it was not Minerva McGonagall’s ruthless tone that he was greeted with, but James’.

 

“Hiya, Remus? You there?”

 

“Yes! I-I’m here!” He called, knowing he sounded too excited and hopeful but he couldn’t help it. James laughed.

 

“It’s James, you remember me, mate?”

 

“Yes, of course! Everything alright?” He asked, the nerves within him building to the point that his insides ached with desperation and anxiety.

 

“Don’t sound so nervous. You were bloody brilliant!” Remus grinned at the praise, despite himself. “Now, to business. Minnie’s telling me to hurry up, you see. Yes, yes I’m getting to that, Minnie. No I won’t stop calling you that.” Remus waited with bated breath as James continued to talk with McGonagall on the other end. “Okay, honestly! Right, Remy you still there?”

 

“Don’t know about this Remy fella, but Remus is still here.” He couldn’t help himself, the sarcastic comment seemingly forcing itself out of his mouth. A second later Remus cursed his stupidity- he was trying to join this bloke’s band after all- but then James burst out laughing.

 

“Fair enough, if you don’t like Remy- I was trying out a nickname, you see. All band members must have one, and we’ll find one for you. Can’t be worse than Prongs. I can’t believe I was talked into that one, mind I was thirteen at the time.”

 

“All b-band members… does that mean I, um, you know-” Remus struggled to find the words, feeling confused and maybe a little encouraged.

 

“Shit, I forgot that part! Yeah, mate, you made it.”

 

Remus finally let out the breath he’d been holding, and as his lungs deflated he felt somehow lighter. The dark cloud of worry that had plagued him the last few days was finally lifted from him and the happiness that James’ words brought him brought a large smile to his face. Finally, he was in a band, an actual band with potential. Who knew how far they could go? The Marauders already had a decent following, and if they improved with their sophomore album they could become a real force. They’d have to begin straight away, before the small amount of momentum around them ran out. Remus already had a few ideas, some riffs he’d been working on and even a few lyrics, though he’d never been a great songwriter. Then again, he didn’t know that much about James, Sirius and Fabian’s talents, maybe-

 

“Now,” James’ clear voice continued, interrupting his thoughts, “A few things we need to sort out first- yes that’s what I’m about to do, Minnie! Right so, first off, we really need to talk in person soon, the entire team. Course it doesn’t help when Pads has disappeared-”

 

“Pads?”

 

“Oh, Sirius. His nickname’s Padfoot, long story. I’m sure we’ll tell you that one day. Don’t worry he’ll come back soon, he does this sometimes.” Remus tried not to linger on the fact that his new band’s bassist liked to do a runner every now and then. “We need this next album to be good, Remus.” James said in an unusually serious tone.

 

“What do you mean?” He asked.

 

“Our contract. We’re only signed on for one more album. It must be a success or we’re out on our asses. Otherwise, you’d have had more of a probation period, maybe a couple more auditions but right now we just don’t have the time. The whole band’s sort of on a probation period.”

 

“Shit.” Remus said, his eyebrows raised.

 

“Yeah. Shit.” James agreed.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll do all I can.”

 

“Glad to hear it! And we shouldn’t be so serious, this is rock and roll. It’s nothing without a bit of fun!” Remus snorted.

 

“Sure. So, you said we need to meet in person soon, then?”

 

“Yep, gotta get working on a new album, and we need to make sure you’re a proper part of the band. We’re thinking of setting up a few small shows, see how that goes. That cool?”

 

“Yeah, great.” It had been a while since he’d played in front of a crowd and he missed it.

 

“Cool, I know you will be great if the other day was anything to go by. Can you come by Bludger’s tomorrow? At like three pm?”

 

“Three? Sure, you don’t want me to come earlier?”

 

“Nah, probably won’t even get up ‘till like two, last Friday was certainly an exception. Minnie had to resort to pouring water on us that morning, isn’t that right Minnie?” Remus laughed.

 

“That sounds… great, I guess.” It was James’ turn to laugh.

 

“You’ll get used to it!”

 

“See you tomorrow then.”

 

“Oh, and Remus?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Don’t worry about Sirius. He’ll turn up and he really is a great guy, when you get to know him. Anyway, congrats and see you tomorrow.” With that he was gone.

 

Remus was left with a lot of things to think about and a lot of emotions running through him. Joy at making the cut mixed seamlessly with trepidation at a new, challenging project. One album? That’s all they had to make it? They’d need a combination of luck, skill and creativity but, from his limited knowledge of the other band members, he reckoned they were good enough if they pooled their talents and worked together.

 

And therein lay another problem. Sirius. First off, he was completely unresponsive and quite frankly a dick during Remus’ audition. And now it seemed as if he’d gone on a bender and vanished at a crucial time for his band, when they were about to pick a new guitarist and had just one more album to impress the executives at Order of the Phoenix Records. However great a bass player he was, Remus wasn’t sure his antics were going to help the band one bit.

 

In any case, Remus was going to turn the Marauders, even if he still hated the name, into an internationally successful and renowned band that played some fucking great music and finally achieve his dream of being one of the world’s great rock guitarists with or without Sirius bloody Black’s help.

 

 

 

“To Remus, the next big thing!”

 

Remus rolled his eyes as his friends toasted him, laughing and yelling approval. It was the same day as James’ call, though it was now approaching midnight. The bar they were in was dark and grimy, full of various unsavoury characters. Bricked walls were cracked and dirty, the tables unwashed and stick, the chairs even more uncomfortable than the ones in Bludger studios. At least eighty percent of the people there were on cocaine or something else and if you looked at the wrong guy in the wrong way you’d get your teeth knocked out. Remus and his friends fit right in; the _Hog’s Head_ was one of their usual haunts.

 

Remus had bestowed a rare phone call to his friends, feeling the news that he was now a Marauder was so big he had to tell them straight away. They’d replied by turning up on his doorstep and insisting on taking him out to celebrate.

 

“I haven’t made it yet.” Remus warned holding up his only free hand, the other one full with a now empty shot glass.

 

“The operative word there being yet!” Dorcas Meadowes, a junior journalist at NME, called excitedly.

 

“The Marauders are shit, mate,” Emmeline Vance proclaimed, already quite drunk, “but they’re less shit with you.”

 

“Thankyou.” Remus said, sincerely.

 

“Don’t listen to her, Remus. They’re alright.” Pandora Lovegood said, her husband, Xenophilius (though everyone called him Xeno) nodding in his slightly dreamy way beside her. Remus was both surprised and happy the two had made it, they were notoriously unreliable and unpredictable but also a lot of fun. They ran their own music magazine, the Quibbler.

 

“How’s the store?” Remus asked Emmeline, who ran a music store a few streets away from his flat.

                            

“Great! Business has really picked up since Dor managed to mention us in the last issue of NME.” Emmeline flashed a radiating smile at her best friend.

 

“I don’t know how you can work at that place, Dorcas.” Xeno said, shaking his head gravely. “Everybody knows how big magazines like that squash honest publications like ours. They don’t write truthful reviews and faithfully report news like us!  They are owned by capitalist overlords and sprout Thatcher propaganda!” Remus, Dorcas and Emmeline rolled their eyes.

 

“Xeno, for the last time NME and Rolling Stone are music magazines. Fair enough, sometimes they’re a little too focused on gossiping rather than the actual music, however, they’ve got nothing to do with capitalism or Thatcher.” Dorcas explained calmly.

 

“That’s what they want you to think! It’s brainwashing!” Pandora said loudly, looking animated.

 

“Look we all hate the Tories, but not everything’s a massive conservative conspiracy.” Remus said.

 

“This is why everybody else I introduce you two too, think your both Marxists on too much LSD.” Emmeline spoke to the married couple as if she was talking to two toddlers.

 

“What if we are?” Xeno looked offended.

 

 

 

A few hours, and bars, later, after Pandora and Xeno had staggered home and Emmeline had gone with some guy, most likely back to his place, Remus found himself, very drunk, sat with Dorcas at the bar of one of the few gay clubs. Remus felt happy and more at home here with glittered queens and muscled hunks than anywhere. It was here as a closeted fifteen-year-old at his first ever gay club that he’d meet Dorcas, a not so closeted lesbian and become fast friends. It was the first time in his life where he could be himself. Dorcas, Emmeline, Pandora and Xeno were the only people in his life he was out to- his mother still often asked whether he’d met any nice girls. This might be the eighties with flamboyant characters like Freddie Mercury and David Bowie, but Gays and Lesbians were still often treated with suspicion and sometimes hatred. Remus knew Dorcas had been called some atrocious things, but he’d always been too shy to let anyone other than his friends or someone he met in a gay bar know about his sexuality, so hadn’t been exposed to too much hatred. Remus had no idea how any of his new band mates would react- they were bound to find out, you were practically on top of each other during tours and recording sessions. Unless Remus was prepared to go abstinent in the sexual department, and he certainly was not.

 

“Any girl strike your fancy?” Remus asked.

 

“Not yet, but it looks like someone’s got their eye on you.” Dorcas nodded to a young man alone at the end of the bar. He had dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was clearly good looking and blushed when Remus turned to face him.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“Oh, come on! Not that I have much of a frame of reference, but he looks cute.” Remus was still undecided so she went on. “You supposed to be celebrating! What’s a celebration without fucking someone?” It was crude and not entirely true, but alcohol and a few weeks’ build-up of sexual frustration made him make his way up to the blonde-haired man.

 

“Hey, I’m Remus. Can I sit down?”

 

 

 

Their hot lips crashed together in desperation and want. Remus ran his hands all over the boy’s body- what was his name, Jason? He’d told him at the club- _Jake_. It was Jake, he was twenty-one years old (Remus had made sure of that, didn’t want to go breaking the law) and he went to LSE.

 

He paused to reach into his pocket and fumble with his keys. Finally, he managed to unlock and open the door and he led Jake into his flat. Jake looked around, examining his surroundings before coming up behind Remus and placing a long, sucking kiss on his neck.

 

Immediately Remus turned and continued the snogging session in earnest. Fuck what anyone else thinks, this feels hot and great and right. No girl could make him feel like this.

 

He drew away from Jake and pulled his shirt over his head. Jake stared at him for a second before stripping his own shirt off, with Remus’ help. Remus kissed him again, softer this time and looked into his eyes.

 

“Want to take this to the bedroom?” Remus asked, in his best attempt to sound husky. He hoped it was sexy.

 

Jake grinned and nodded. “Lead the way.”

 

 

 

Remus woke up the next day with a pounding headache. It felt like a freight train was running through the middle of his head and he groaned loudly. Something shifted beside him and he turned to see a blonde-haired boy lying beside him. Jake was still asleep and Remus got up groggily, trying not to disturb him. He pulled on a pair of pants and contemplated whether to make breakfast or take a shower. His stomach growled fiercely and he realised how horribly hungry he was. The shower could wait; perhaps he’d wait until Jake got up, then they could shower together.

 

He yawned loudly. He turned to face the far wall where an old cheap clock his cousin had brought him for a flat warming present was hung- he needed to find out how long he had before he needed to be at Bludger Studios. It read, 2:53 PM.

 

“Fuck!” He yelled, startling the naked man behind him.

 

“Huh… What-what’s wrong?”

 

“I’ve got to be somewhere,” he said as he scrambled to find some clothes. “Go back to sleep, stay as long as you want but I…” He didn’t finish speaking but focused on actually getting dressed.

 

“Oh. Okay.” Jake lay back down and closed his eyes.

 

Remus finally managed to work the zipper on his skinny grey jeans up and rushed to the door, pausing only to pick up his guitar case. He took the steps in his flat building two, sometimes three, at a time. He barged through the main glass door and out into the street, knocking over Mrs Figg, who lived in the flat below.

 

“Sorry!” He called behind him.

 

He ran as fast as he could, desperate to get to Bludger Recording Studios. He couldn’t be late on his first shitting day. The guitar on his back seemed to get heavier and heavier, until it got to the point where it felt as if he was carrying a tonne of bricks. He lost count of the amount of times he had to call apologies back to people he charged into. 

 

Then, mercifully, he saw the same brick building that he had visited last Friday. He had made it and he wasn’t even that late.

 

He allowed himself a small smile as he approached the door but then-

 

Crash!

 

A sharp burst of pain was followed by dull aching in his ribs as his lungs were knocked free of air and he keeled over, falling hard. He was left laying pathetically on the ground. No, not the ground on _someone_. Remus coughed and spluttered, then looked up into the face of the person he had balled over. He was met with a familiar and very annoyed looking pair of stormy grey eyes.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sirius Black shouted angrily.

 

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lyrics at the beginning from Lithium by Nirvana.
> 
> This was slightly rushed and a little shorter than chapter one but I really wanted to showcase where Remus was with his sexuality- comfortable but definitely not completely out. Also managed to fit a little Sirius at the end!
> 
>  
> 
> PS. we'll start to actually get to know the real Sirius soon, not just the annoyed facade he has around Remus.


	3. Welcome

_He was the naz,_

_With God given ass,_

_He took it all too far,_

_But, boy, could he play guitar._

“Shit! I-I’m so sorry!” Remus scrambled off Sirius, in panic, very aware of how close their faces were. “Honestly, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to! It was just I thought I was going to be late, you see, and t-then- well it was kind of a late night but, uh-”

 

“Whatever, just shut up. I hate rambling.” Sirius said heatedly once he’d got up and dusted himself off. “Just look where you’re going next time.” Sirius spared one more despairing look down his nose at Remus, then shook his head in exasperation and entered Bludger Studios.

 

Remus was left alone on the street, looking like an idiot. It seemed he’d already fucked up. Sirius had looked incredibly pissed off and they could hardly make a successful album if some of the members hated each other, they weren’t exactly _Fleetwood Mac,_ and other groups who it had worked for; that was after they’d already been friends or more than friends _._ He and Sirius had never been friends and now it looked as if they never would be. Was Sirius now going to push for his dismissal? Could the band afford that, with only one more album to prove themselves?  

 

Suddenly, Remus felt a white-hot anger spread through him. What gave Sirius the right to act as if Remus was beneath him? As soon as Remus had walked through the door last Friday, Sirius had treated him like dirt. Remus may have knocked him over but it was an honest accident and he had apologised profusely for it. He’d always tried to be polite whenever he could, not just to Sirius but people in general, however some people were just assholes, he concluded.

 

Shaking his head in much the way Sirius had done a few seconds earlier, he followed the bassist into the building. When he entered he saw Sirius disappearing through the door that led to the same hallway Remus had walked through in his previous visit. Remus followed him, passing the same bitchy receptionist, but instead of entering the room they had jammed in last Friday Sirius took a left halfway down and up a steep set of stairs. Remus trailed him up the staircase, through a sort of atrium, then through two doors, until finally they reached a plain looking white-coloured door with faded black lettering saying _Studio B_ on it.

 

Sirius glanced behind to give Remus a cold stare, which he returned. The corner of Sirius’ mouth twitched slightly, although Remus could’ve been imagining it. Then it was gone as fast as it came and Sirius turned quickly to push open the door loudly and saunter into the room beyond.

 

When Remus entered he was shocked at how clean it was compared to the room downstairs. It was slightly smaller but filled with desks, cabinets and an actually comfortable looking sofa in the far corner. The worn cream carpet was old but not tattered, bruised and stained like the one in Remus’ flat. The desks were covered in different knobs and dials making it look like the inside of a spaceship. They meant nothing to Remus. A clear window pane was set on the far wall; beyond lay another room, which could be accessed through a door next to the window pane. He couldn’t see that well into that room, but he assumed that was where the recording would take place and where the band’s instruments lay.

 

There was a record player in the corner, next to the sofa, with a spinning black record perched on it. When Remus entered he paused for a second to listen and he smiled slightly when he recognized _Deep Purple._ On the sofa sat James, McGonagall and a gruff looking man Remus had never met before. For some reason he found it strange that McGonagall was sat listening to _Deep Purple_ ; she seemed more of an _Elvis Presley_ fan, at a push _Buddy Holly_ (who Remus thought was much superior to the supposed ‘King’) _._ Then again, she was managing a hard rock band, though Remus had no idea why. James broke Remus’ thoughts when he got up from his place on the armrest of the sofa and grinned excitedly.

 

“Sirius, great you’re here. And Remus! Did you run into each other outside?”

 

“Literally.” Sirius said bitterly with a roll of his eyes. Remus frowned and James looked confused.

 

“Er… okay.” James said, obviously unsure. “Well, I’m glad your both here now.”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it, Prongs!” Sirius called, mock excited, though he sounded more cheerful than Remus had ever heard him.

 

“Yes,” McGonagall spoke, also getting up. “With no time to spare, too.” She eyed them both beadily and Remus couldn’t help but quail. How the fuck she was so intimidating, he had no idea.

 

“Er-yes sorry about that, um well, you know…” Remus suddenly forgot how to speak English. He half expected for Sirius to snort or sneer at his awkwardness but the bassist stayed silent.  

 

“Do shut it, lad.” The unknown gruff man sat on the sofa cut in. Unlike McGonagall and James, he remained seated and Remus looked at him properly for the first time. The man was one of the most extraordinary looking people he had ever seen. His grizzled hair was going grey and his nose was out of place and squashed, obviously it had been broken numerous times. His most striking feature, however, were his eyes. one was small and dark while the other was a vivid, electric blue and much, much larger than the first.

 

“This is Alastor Moody, though everyone calls him Mad-eye Moody for obvious reasons, the best sound engineer in the employ of Bludger Studios.” James made a flourishing arm movement to indicate the seated man behind him. Mad-eye Moody growled in response. James winced.

 

“How much do you have ready to record?” Moody questioned the room at large.

 

“Um… not much.” James replied.

 

“He means nothing.” McGonagall said curtly.

 

“Nothing?” Moody looked even more pissed off than Sirius after Remus had barged him over. “Great. That’s just great.”

 

“Well we’ve only just added Remus, here, and we need to get him up to speed before we start working on new stuff. Then, there’s these small shows we setting up to introduce him to the fans-”

 

“Yeah, yeah ‘nough of the excuses!” Moody muttered angrily at the same time Sirius scoffed and asked, “What fans?”

 

“Hey!” James said looking offended, whether at Moody or Sirius he wasn’t sure. “We have fans, great ones…”

 

“Yeah, they’re great,” Sirius muttered, “All three of them.” Remus attempted to hid his laughter behind his hand but he knew he wasn’t entirely successful as Sirius looked back at him without the usual cold, indifferent dislike that had always seemed to lie in them when he looked at Remus before then. Perhaps they could stand each other.

 

“Whatever,” said James, pouting like a child. “This is a new era for the Marauders. A Remus era!”

 

“I’m sure it is, mate,” Sirius said patting James on the shoulder, in both a kind and patronising way.

 

“Right, I’m off. Get back to me when you actually have some new stuff to get down.” Moody snarled and pushed past Remus heading towards the door.

 

“But, Alastor we could really use you on hand here.” McGonagall told him but she only got a low rumble from the back of Moody’s throat in response.

 

When the door had shut loudly behind the disgruntled engineer, Remus let out a low breath and said, “I think I like him.”

 

“Yeah, a real ray of sunshine,” Sirius murmured contemptuously and he trudged past James and McGonagall into the room beyond the window pane. Any goodwill Remus had felt towards him a minute before vanished. Sirius was back to being a complete prick in his eyes.  James turned to Remus.

 

“Come on, Remus let’s get into the main room. Rest o’ the guys are there too.” McGonagall stayed put but Remus followed James through the other door and when Remus entered the small room he saw Hagrid and Fabian fawning over a drum kit, and Gideon tuning James’ guitar in the corner. Sirius had gone over to Gideon and was now laughing and joking with the ginger man. He seemed completely different when talking to a friend.

 

“Remus, good to see you again.” Fabian said, speaking with a thick northern accent, and making his way over to him. Remus shook his offered hand and Fabian continued, a lazy smirk etched on to his face, “Sorry I barely got to speak to your last week. McGonagall was keeping us on a bloody tight schedule.” He laughed and James joined in, good-naturedly.

 

“Oh, that’s okay.” Remus said. “She seems very… capable.”

 

“She’s that alright.” Fabian nodded.

 

“Yeah, she can be a right fearsome force at times,” said James, “But I’ve no idea where we’d be without her.”

 

“How’d she end up managing you?” Remus asked, interested.

 

“Came with the contract.” Fabian said.

 

“She’s an old friend of the Order of the Phoenix’s CEO. When we got signed, he asked her to take us on board.” James further explained.

 

“She says she regrets saying yes. What were who words again, James?” Fabian asked, grinning.

 

“Ah, I believe it was ‘I rue the day I took on such a stupid, insolent, immature group of imbeciles!’”

 

“What the hell did you do?” Remus enquired.

 

“Er, god, was that the time we hid itching powder in her bed sheets or when we were arrested after that bar fight Sirius got us into?” Fabian scratched his head.

 

“That wasn’t my fault!” Sirius snorted from the corner, actually looking light-hearted as he had done with James before, pausing his conversation with Gideon, “You were the one who flirted with that big bloke’s wife, Piggy.”

 

“Piggy?” Remus said, bewildered.

 

“My nickname.” Fabian grumbled. “Born from my overzealous eating habits and that my first name is similar to Fabio Pignatelli, that bassist for Goblin.”

 

“It wasn’t that time anyway.” James interjected. “No, it was after that _Led Zeppelin_ concert at Knebworth last august, she’d only been with us like, a month- remember? We got back to the hotel and Wormtail threw up all over her!”

 

James’ smile disintegrated and his happy expression died a second after he’d spoken, apparently realising he had said something awful or forbidden. His comment was followed by a choked, painful silence, making the room extremely uncomfortable for everyone. Remus looked around, confused at what was wrong with what James had said. James himself looked broken and Remus feared he was going to cry, while Fabian’s expression had turned into one more of anger, a thick, pulsating vein standing out on his forehead, above creased eyebrows. His eyes had narrowed into slits. Gideon had become extremely interested with his shoes, staring at them with a focused concentration and Hagrid’s face had contorted into a crestfallen expression. Sirius’ jokey smile and relaxed manner from before was now entirely gone. He didn’t look upset like James and Hagrid, angry like Fabian, or even awkward like Gideon. He just looked completely closed off and emotionless.

 

“Um… we should probably get started.” Gideon said after a tense few moments.

 

“Right- definitely!” James’ voice sounded excited and cheerful but Remus sensed at once it was fake. “Exciting day ahead!” He laughed slightly manically but no one joined in and he soon stopped.

 

McGonagall entered the room, which helped alleviate the tension somewhat, and slowly people started going back to what they were supposed to be doing. Remus started setting up his guitar with the help of Gideon, attaching to the studio system and amps, then tuned it, which he insisted he do himself because that was how he’d always done it.

 

Once they were set up, they started going through all the Marauder’s songs that had been on Black Stag, as they had done last Friday. It didn’t take long; there were only twelve songs on the album. They tidied up each song and practiced it to perfection, making sure it sounded right with Remus on guitar. Although the other Marauders were slightly hesitant at how loose and jagged he played the parts, Sirius calling it, “unclean,”, McGonagall, Gideon and Hagrid agreed with Remus that it sounded better that way and gave the band a new, different edge. James especially seemed a little resentful that Remus played everything different from the original material but he went along with it and Remus understood. It wasn’t nice to have someone come in and tell you that you’d been playing your own songs the wrong way.

 

It was nearing eight in the evening by the time they had finished going through each song. James nodded approvingly and glanced at Remus. “I think we’ve got it down.”

 

“Yeh’ sound good!” said Hagrid, big yellow teeth showing as he smiled.

 

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Fabian said.

 

“Right, we’ve still got some more to do tonight but now- dinner?” James said with a questioning eyebrow raised. His one-word question was answered with a round of yes’ and hungry nods. Remus smiled in relief; his stomach had been constantly rumbling for the last hour.

 

“Yeah, how about _Carquois_?” Sirius asked. _Carquois_ was a ridiculously expensive French restaurant in south west London, frequented by old, fat, white MPs, business men, bankers and general rich assholes. Remus laughed at what he thought was an obvious joke but everybody looked at him blankly.

 

“What, exactly, is so funny?” Sirius said, staring daggers at him. Remus gulped nervously and took a step away from him.

 

“I thought it was a joke.” He said quietly.

 

“Why would it be a joke?”

 

“Well-er, it’s _Carquois_.”

 

“So?”

 

“Let’s just say that in my experience, ridiculously expensive and upper-class French cuisine restaurants aren’t the usual haunts for an unsuccessful rock band. Or me, for that matter.” 

 

“Well, then this is the time to show you what you’ve been missing!” James called, looking between Remus and Sirius apprehensively, obviously afraid of a burgeoning argument.

 

“I guess.” Remus said. In all honesty, though, he was not particularly looking forward to it, especially in what he was wearing- ripped grey jeans, beat up black boots and a loose fighting, stained t-shirt.

 

 

 

Predictably, Remus felt completely out of place in what he fought was the stuffiest, most pretentious place he’d ever been. Everything was white- white walls, white table clothes, white plates, white people. An ornate, golden chandelier the size of the house Remus had grown up in (okay, that was an exaggeration, but it was still too fucking big in his opinion) hung from an elaborately decorated celling, casting light on about thirty tables, all well-spaced out. Everyone in there wore suits and long, flowing dresses- even Fabian, Gideon, James and Sirius (Hagrid and McGonagall had stayed behind, something about paperwork) in their clean bright shirts and nice not-faded jeans looked like they belonged. Remus might as well have been an alien from another planet.

 

Uncomfortably he sat down at the table they were shown in between James and Fabian, trying to ignore the disparaging looks from the other clients and the waiting staff.

 

“What looks good?” James asked contentedly looking at a menu, completely in his element.

 

“Hmm… their Cornish Turbot is always good.” Gideon murmured. Remus had no idea what the fuck that was and the menu in front of him made no sense- was white beetroot different from normal beetroot? Not that he’d no the difference, it wasn’t like he ate beetroot on a regular basis.

 

Finally they all ordered; Remus went for something with chicken in it. Thankfully he managed to pick that out among all the gobbledygook. They then, to Remus’ enormous relief, turned to talking about topics Remus could actually participate in, not the latest movements in the stock exchange as the old men in the table next to them were. Davis Bowie’s latest album, _Lodger_.

 

“Meh.” Was Gideon’s critical analysis.

 

“Meh? It’s not even meh! Compared to _Heroes_ and _Low_ , it’s not even that. His worst work since _Pin Ups,_ I reckon.” Sirius said.

 

“But that’s the problem!” Remus jumped in. “You can’t constantly compare it to his other stuff- no one can live up to that every bloody album.”

 

“So we should go easy on him just because of his previous work?” Sirius replied, derisively.

 

“That’s not what I said!”

 

“Not quite fair on new artists, is it?” Sirius looked annoyed, but Remus thought there was a glint in his eye that spoke of something more. Perhaps that meant he was just super annoyed. Probably.

 

“All I’m saying is it’s underrated.” Remus put his hands up in mock surrender.

 

“Too arty for me.” Fabian said, taking advantage of the momentary silence.

 

“Yeah, it was a bit too much pop.” James agreed.

 

“Not any more than _Low_.” Remus countered.

 

“Maybe,” conceded Fabian, “but he handled it better then and with _Heroes_ , too.”

 

“I guess.” Remus though he sounded pretty ineloquent next to the rest of the guys, except maybe Gideon and his input, but he pushed that uneasy thought to the back of his mind and sat up straighter, as if they would help him fit in better.

 

Soon enough, the food arrived and Remus wondered for a second whether they’d ordered starters by accident- it was fucking tiny, in humble opinion. But he stayed silent as the others got stuck in and he realised that, no, these was his main. Still, it was quite nice, if small and wildly expensive. After that’d finished (Remus finishing far before anyone else and he realised he had probably lapped up his food like a ravenous goat- Sirius gave him an odd look and he looked down, blushing) James payed, smiling and saying, “It’s on the company- at least they haven’t dropped us yet, eh?”

 

Eventually, mercifully, beautifully they then left the restaurant. Remus grinned when they arrived on the dirty, smoky London streets- this was home, this was where he was comfortable.  

 

“Right- back to the studio.” James grinned around at them. “We’ve got the old stuff down, now we need to get going on some new stuff!” He looked ridiculously excited, inhumanly so to Remus, and he was not the only one who noticed it.

 

“Calm down before you wet your pants, Prongs. Don’t want to dirty up our glorious capital’s streets with your diseased urine.” Sirius said, with an eyebrow raised.

 

“Shut up!” James reddened, as the twins and Remus laughed. “I’d never do that!”

 

“Really?” Sirius asked, as his lip curled into a cruel smirk. “Already forgotten about that night out in Liverpool?”

 

“You said you’d never speak of that day!” James’ face had taken on a panicked, and extremely comical, expression. Gideon, Fabian and Remus launched into a fresh round of laughter at the sight.

 

“We wondered where you two buggered off to that night!” Fabian said between wheezes. “You were just having a pissing competition in the bloody street?”

 

“Not me, mate,” Sirius said, shrugging, “all James. Just decided to go against a bus stop. Like a fox or a dog.”

 

Remus’ cheeks hurt from laughter as James dove at Sirius and the two went down, rolling on top of each other, shouting and landing a few soft, jokey punches on each other’s midriffs.

 

Maybe he could fit in after all, as long as he wasn’t expected to go to stuffy posh restaurants every day. If that were to happen, he might just hang himself from their oversized, gold chandelier, he thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the start from Bowie's Ziggy Stardust. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter took so long- had a bit of a writer's block and couldn't figure out where to end it but its here now.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	4. Used To

_Is a dream a lie if it don't come true,_

_Or is it something worse,_

_that sends me down to the river,_

_though I know the river is dry._

 

The next few days were some of the oddest, and yet also most enjoyable, of Remus’ life. Odd because of the difference in lifestyle, enjoyable because of the music. They settled into a routine, one that was unfamiliar for Remus, though the rest of the band had been through it all before, if only once. So, as with all other new routines, he soon could barely remember it being any other way.

 

He’d wake up around midday, have a short breakfast, go over some of the trickier stuff they had worked on the previous day and head to the studio around two. When he got there, usually before the rest of the band members, he’d have a pleasant chat with Hagrid (often about some exotic creature or another, that Hagrid desperately wanted to see in person) and then work out new riffs or something similar under the watchful eye of McGonagall, before the twins, Sirius or James arrived. James would bounce in around three, a bunch of tattered papers containing lyrics clutched in one hand and a dazzling smile on his face. Together they would go over both their new ideas- Remus would teach James the new guitar parts, and together they’d go over James’ lyrics. Remus had never been much of a lyric writer but it was nice, he knew, for James to have someone fresh to knock his ideas around. James also took Remus’ advice that the lyrics needed to be more direct, graphic and less poetic and upper class on board. Then they’d see if any of the parts Remus had come up with matched James’ lyrics or they would make something new up on the spot if they particular liked a riff or set of lyrics. Anything not used was safely stored away for any possible future use.

 

By that point the rest would’ve arrived, Sirius always staggering in last with unkempt hair and red eyes and yet he somehow managed to look better and more elegant than any of them. Fuck him. Once certain bass or drum parts were worked out for whatever Remus and James had managed to scrounge up, they would pull them all together and see if they had anything. Next would follow the critique period, which repeatedly went something like this:

 

“We need a bridge part in between the third verse and fourth chorus. And, of course, backing vocals in that outro are essential. Wouldn’t you agree, Lupin?” McGonagall would demand, impatiently.

 

“Needs more fills!” Fabian would say, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“It’s too messy,” Sirius would say, haughtily, “and I don’t like that part Remus came up with.” A pause. “Actually, I don’t like any of it.”

 

Hagrid would grin and say, “I though’ it was bloody brilliant!” Though, in truth, however nice a man Hagrid was, nobody really trusted his judgment went it came down to music matters- Remus still remembered when Hagrid tried to put an _ABBA_ cassette into the cassette player. Sirius looked as if he’d been punched.

 

Gideon would shrug.

 

This process would last until at least ten, when they’d order takeout (thank God Remus was not forced to go back to _Carquois_ ). If they actually had a credible song by this point, they’d call Moody up to begin recording the parts. In truth, this was rare and most of the time they would finish up by midnight with nothing new recorded. Remus would wobble home, thanks to Fabian’s stash of whiskey he kept well away from McGonagall, and collapse into his bed. And the cycle would repeat.

 

After a week and a half of this, Remus began to worry a little. They had three songs recorded but only one of those was really ever going to make a final album cut- a song called _Basildon Blues,_ a song about some hometown of one of James’ exes but the lyrics were funny and to the point, and Remus had come up with an up-beat but also rough riff that suited it well. It was also Fabian’s favourite song- it contained a lot of drum fills. Despite this one small success of a song, overall their effort thus far had been pretty lacklustre.

 

Still, he reminded himself, it wasn’t like you could produce an album overnight. He wasn’t sure how other artists did it, but he hoped they weren’t abnormally slow. Plus, they had only been together as a foursome for less than a month. And soon he had a fresh, equally worrying thing to concern himself with, as he found out the next Monday.

 

“Saturday.” McGonagall’s commanding voice disrupted them, as she swept into the room and all eyes turned to her. They had been in the middle of Sirius showcasing a new, pounding base line to them but all attention was now concentrated on the Marauder’s manager.

 

“Huh?” James asked, articulately, glasses askew.

 

“You asked me to book in a couple of shows, now Remus has joined the band, Potter. The first one is this Saturday, eight thirty at the _Prancing Unicorn_ bar.”

 

Remus gulped. “That’s, er, soon.” He said. McGonagall looked at him.

 

“We don’t exactly have all the time in the world here, Lupin.” She admonished.

 

“S-sorry, um, of course, yes. No time.”

 

“That’s only four days away- you sure people will turn up?” Asked James.

 

“I’m not so sure that the short notice is the reason people won’t be turning up, Prongs.” Sirius muttered darkly and Remus snorted. James, and McGonagall, ignored him.

 

“Order of the Phoenix started advertising yesterday and I believe they got a small spot in the back of this week’s _Melody Maker_ , along with posters and so on. The _Prancing Unicorn_ isn’t exactly the largest venue so hopefully it shouldn’t be too hard to fill.” McGonagall continued.

 

“Wouldn’t bet on that.” Gideon seemed to have joined in with Sirius’ pessimistic behaviour.

 

“Do you have so little faith in my unparalleled talent, little brother?” Fabian grinned.

 

“I’m only younger by a quarter of an hour!”

 

“Not this argument again, for goodness sake.” Sirius rolled his eyes.

 

“How long are we playing for and is anyone going on before or after us?” James questioned McGonagall, ever curious of the facts.

 

“You have a two hours set, so just enough for the album, plus _Basildon Blues_. Perhaps a few covers, too. It would be good to play at least one new song, I think.”

 

“Agreed.” Sirius nodded.

 

“As for who else is playing, I believe you’re the only live band that night, its being advertised as your show, and that is who they’ll be paying money for. An exclusive so they’ll be expecting a lot.”

 

“Oh- that’s… great.” Remus muttered but he could feel horrible, aching nerves building up inside of him, making him squirm.

 

“Yer’ll be amazing, Remus! I know yer will. They wont know what hit ‘em!”

 

Remus sighed. “Thanks, Hagrid.”

 

 

 

That week seemed to drag on slowly. The old adage that if you’re dreading something, it will sneak up on you faster was not true in this case. Instead, it passed by sluggishly, elongating his pain out over the next few days. It was excruciating. True, he’d performed in front of crowds before, and the _Prancing Unicorn_ wasn’t the largest place, but this was the first time in the Marauders and whatever Sirius said, they did have some fans. What if he fucked up and they hated him?

 

That Saturday he woke up at eleven after a fitful and disturbed sleep and he doubted he had managed even five hours sleep. Wearily he turned over and stared at the ceiling, as his worry started to get the better of him. Contemplating his life for several seconds, he let his eyes wander over the peeling white paint above him. Subconsciously, his fingers wandered to his inner calf and traced the clear, scarred lines there… no, he couldn’t think about that now. Forget it. Forget him.

 

Quickly, he shot up and climbed out of bed to get ready, so as not to think too hard about the past and old habits.

 

He met up with the others at the studios at four in the afternoon, as they had planned, after a few frantic hours spent pacing up and down his flat like a yo-yo, desperately trying not to let his mind wander to unpleasant thoughts. It had been a tough job and he was relieved when it came time to leave.

 

“Remus!” James called when Remus entered the reception of Bludger studios; the entire band, McGonagall, Gideon and Hagrid were gathered there under the disdainful eye of the receptionist. “Last one here for a change!”

 

“Y-yeah, sorry.”

 

“No problem.” McGonagall said, her voice cutting like a knife in the early evening air. “Hagrid and Prewett have just finished up loading the van. I believe we’re ready.”

 

“Minnie, there are two Prewetts, you realise.” James pointed out.

 

“As if Fabian would ever lift a finger to help load the equipment.” Snorted Gideon.

 

“Hey!”

 

“I’m with your brother on that one, Piggy.” Sirius reasoned. “He makes a solid case, you’re probably the laziest bastard I know.” Fabian pouted.

 

“Would you lot stop acting like idiots for one second?” McGonagall demanded.

 

“No. I’m afraid we won’t.” Sirius said gravely. Fabian and James nodded seriously, while their manager rolled her eyes.

 

The traffic was awful and they didn’t make it to the club until an hour later, even though it was located just south, across the Thames. Remus was crammed into the back of McGonagall’s _Ford Pinto_ , during the rather uncomfortable journey. His knees knocked with Sirius and Fabian’s either side of him in the rather crammed back, as James laughed at them from the front, where he was sat next to the driving McGonagall. He stopped when McGonagall threatened to demote him to the boot if he didn’t shut up, however, and then it was Fabian, Remus and Sirius’ turn to laugh.  

 

Finally, the van ahead of them, in which drove Gideon and Hagrid with the equipment, turned into a narrow, but very long, one-way side street. Remus had been around this area before, but never to this exact street. It was packed with odd shops that ranged from socialist bookshops, to small, dusty record stores. The _Prancing Unicorn_ was not the only concert space on the street; there were two or three other bars, all of which were slightly smaller than the where they were playing.

 

Looking across Fabian out of the window, Remus grinned when he saw two punks, both with tattoos, piercings and bright dyed hair strolling down the pavement. At last he was the one out of the band who fit in. He was wearing his favourite leather jacket over a white vest, big black boots and scruffy, ripped, light blue jeans. His hair was specially messed up, strands of it standing on all ends, though it didn’t come close to James’. The rest, meanwhile, wore smart shirts or suit jackets and straight black trousers. Remus thought they looked quite like _The Jam_. And while this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it didn’t quite fit with their louder, more simpler sound, in Remus’ opinion. Perhaps it would fit more if they started branching out more musically or incorporated different genres but right now they weren’t that complex.

 

They pulled up outside the _Prancing Unicorn_ where Remus, Fabian, Sirius and James quickly got out of the car, leaving McGonagall to speed off to look for a proper parking space. Hagrid and Gideon pulled the van into the gap between the _Prancing Unicorn_ and the building next door- a vintage clothes store- and got out as well. They opened the van up and started to carry the various instruments through the back door of the bar, which had been opened by a sour looking man in his sixties.

 

As James led them towards the front door, Remus looked up at the place where he was going to place his first concert as a Marauder. It looked fairly new, or at least the concrete walls weren’t too cracked or dirty, and there was a large lit up sign hanging over the door. It read _The Prancing Unicorn_ in big blue letters with a small, horned horse next to it, which Remus supposed was meant to be a unicorn. The walls were covered, almost exclusively, in graffiti but it didn’t make the place look too bad, just gave it personality.

 

A very large poster was plastered on the door proclaiming _Siouxsie and the Banshees at the Prancing Unicorn Venue on April the 24 th, at 10:00: A must see event, the most intimate venue they’ll play in all year! _Remus reckoned that was code for smallest venue they’d play all year. A much smaller poster placed in the top right of the door, positioned so it didn’t block any part of the larger one. It read: _The Marauders this Saturday, featuring an all new guitarist and new songs! See their first appearance in months here at 8:30! Doors open at 7:30._

James opened the door and practically ran into the venue in excitement. Fabian followed, with Remus and Sirius bringing up the rear, walking slowly side by side. Two weeks ago he’d have tried to run away had he found himself in this position but over the last week or two in the studio, they seemed to have reached an understanding. They had both stopped the slightly snarky remarks that had been directed toward each other in those first uncomfortable days in the studio and they could now even hold an amicable conversation. Sirius was now more comfortable and relaxed around him (at first he had been tense, his eyes always tinted with suspicion whenever he looked at Remus), while Remus had started to see that perhaps Sirius was not the devil incarnate. He had a biting sarcastic humour and was a welcome relief from the unabashed enthusiasm of James and the lazy silliness of Fabian. They didn’t exactly seek out each other’s company, and they definitely were not friends, as Remus thought he now was with the others, but they weren’t openly hostile, either.

 

The place was probably enough for about a hundred and fifty people, Remus thought as they crossed the currently empty space, past a bar and a slightly raised stage where they would be performing soon, and through a door, whit a narrow passageway on the other side. They came face to face with the sour looking man who had opened the door for Gideon and Hagrid, who Remus guessed was the owner or manager. He looked them opened down bemusedly, then snorted and made to pass them, going towards the main space.

 

“Hey, wait up a second!” James called to him, brazenly.

 

“What?” the man asked, irritably.

 

“I was just going to ask about lighting,” James said innocently, his hazel eyes wide behind his round glasses. “And sound. Do you happen to have someone here or should we-”

 

“Look ‘ere, posh boy. I’m not your feckin’ butler or your bloody servant, understand?” The man spat. “Don’t try to order me around. I already told your manager this on the bloody phone.” And with that, the man turned and exited. James stared after him. Fabian raised his eyebrows and continued down the passage, disappearing behind a door marked _Backstage_.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” James asked, looking at Remus. Remus hesitated and Sirius jumped in.

 

“Course not, mate. Bloke’s obviously got a right stick up his-”

 

“Didn’t ask you, Pads.” James said, still looking at Remus. Sirius turned to him, also. “It’s just,” James continued, “whenever we play at places like this, and these about the only places we can right now, people are always like that.” He looked sad and Remus felt pretty bad for him but he wasn’t going to sugar coat anything.

 

“It’s not exactly your fault.” He began, choosing his words slowly. “You're just a bit…”

 

“Posh?”

 

“Kind of. This isn’t really the sort of music or the sort of places people who are upper class usually are seen in or doing.”

 

“It’s not like I can help it!” James wailed.

 

“No, but I guess some people just don’t like it when people like you lot come in and act like you own the place.” Remus said, deflating James even more.

 

“Oh, please.” Sirius snorted. “Don’t go making this about class.”

 

“It’s always about class.” Remus snapped. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

 

“Really? Don’t tell me your some Marx- reading, Trotsky- worshiping fool, like half those fools out there.” Sirius motioned outside with his thumb. Remus bristled.

 

“And don’t tell me your some Thatcher- supporting, bigoted toff!”

 

“Enough!” James shouted, stopping both of them. Fabian had poked his head out of the door and was watching the spectacle with an amused expression. “No politics and definitely no fighting! Now, apologise.”

 

“Sorry.” They both murmured, looking away from each other.

 

“I‘m not a bigot. Or a toff.” Sirius said quietly.

 

“I’m not a communist.” Remus said in the same volume.

 

“Good.” James nodded commandingly. “We need to work together. Together! Only then can we achieve all we want to. Whether from a council estate in Stoke or a terraced house in Suffolk, all men, women and children will hear of us. We shall bring all people to the banner of the Marauders and heal our society’s division through the poetic art of music. We must prove the sceptics wrong with the power of song!” James raised a clenched fist. Fabian cheered from the doorway he was leaned out of. Sirius and Remus rolled their eyes.

 

“Fine, Prongs.” Sirius said. “We’ll work together don’t worry yourself.”

 

“Yeah.” Remus agreed. James nodded and entered the room Fabian was hanging out of. Fabian winked at them, then properly entered as well.

 

“You know,” Sirius said, as they made to follow, “I think he’s actually lost it. I mean, heal all society’s problems through our shit music? Are you kidding me?” But he was smiling as he said it. Remus blinked in surprise at his friendliness, then grinned.

 

“I know. Maybe he’s confused us for _The Beatles_.” Sirius smiled and nodded.

 

“I reckon you are a closet Marxist, though.”

 

“You should meet my friends, Xeno and Pandora!” Remus laughed and Sirius joined in.

 

“Oh god, they even sound mental.”

 

“Yep. But you’re definitely a toff, no offense. You can’t really deny that.”

 

“Yeah, probably.” Sirius said after a pause. “But I’m nothing compared to my folks.”

 

“Really?” Remus asked but he could see that Sirius’ face had darkened as soon as he mentioned his parents and decided to change tact. “But you went to a boarding school right? That’s where you met James and the twins?”

 

“Yes,” Sirius’ face cleared. “Prongs was in my dorm, the twins were a year ahead of us but when we heard Fabian could play drums, Prongs marched right up to him and demanded he play with us.” Sirius wore a fond smile as he reminisced. “Took a bit of convincing but eventually he agreed to give us a chance. He was better than us by far when we first started but we got better.”

 

“Your school okay with all that band stuff?” Remus asked- his school barely had music lessons.

 

“Oh yeah, we practiced in one of the music rooms at first. Our last year, after Piggy left, they wouldn’t let him back in once a week to practice, though, so we secretly set up some instruments in the gain keeper’s hut on the edge of the grounds. That’s how we meet Hagrid.”

 

“Hagrid was the gain keeper?”

 

“Yeah.” Grinned Sirius.

 

“Why does that not surprise me?” Remus smirked. “Why’s he here with you lot then?”

 

“Well Gideon couldn’t quite do it on his own and he seemed to quite enjoy messing with music stuff that year we practiced in his hut. So, we asked him and it felt like a nice way to pay him back for that whole year, giving him a job.” Sirius explained.

 

“And I suppose it doesn’t hurt having a giant around to lug shit around?”

 

“That too.” Sirius grinned.

 

They both sat down heavily on a worn sofa in the backstage dressing room. Fabian sat, his legs spread wide apart, on a leather arm chair opposite them. James paced up and down the room.

 

“He always does this before a show.” Fabian stage whispered to Remus. “Got too much pent up energy.”

 

“Do sit down, Prongs.” Sirius yawned. “You’re making me nervous over here!”

 

“Sorry, sorry.” James said absentmindedly, though he continued to pace. Sirius sighed.

 

After twenty minutes, in which Fabian (with some input from Sirius) regaled Remus with stories from their boarding school, McGonagall swept into the room, having returned from parking the car. Immediately, James assaulted her with questions and she answered them patiently, obviously used to this. Yes, they were setting up the equipment, no, Gideon was doing lighting and sound, no, all but twenty tickets had been sold. Finally, Gideon entered, which halted James’ hail of questions, and told them it was time for sound check.

 

“Come on Remus!” James called as he skipped out of the door, after Gideon. “First soundcheck with you as a Marauder! That’s a milestone!”

 

“Everything’s a bloody milestone with Remus in the band, according to you.” Fabian smirked as he trailed James out of the door, albeit more orthodoxly. “What about that first piss I had after Remus joined the band? Was that a milestone?” McGonagall followed Fabian, admonishing him for ‘ungentlemanly behaviour’.

 

Remus sat there. His palms were sweaty and his foot tapped the cold, hard floor incessantly. The nerves inside him were reaching breaking point, threatening to spill out into a panic attack. It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

“Come on,” Sirius said, his voice even, from where he was stood by the door. “If you play anything like you do at the studio, you’re be fine. Beside, it’s just the soundcheck.”

 

Remus didn’t know why this calmed him but it did. Coming from Sirius, his least favourite out of all these knew people he had meet, it seemed to mean more. He wasn’t saying that to be nice but because it was true. Remus looked at the dark-haired man and nodded. 

 

 

“I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from The River by Bruce Springsteen.
> 
> Remus' first concert as a marauder next! 
> 
> Plus maybe a few more new characters...


	5. A Pleasure To Meet You

_And so, as you hear these words,_

_telling you now of my state,_

_I tell you to enjoy life,_

_I wish I could but it's too late._

The anticipation and anxiety that had built up all week and had continued to grow the day of the show, all through the soundcheck and just before they went on, as he listened to the hundred or so people talking, laughing and drinking through the thin walls of the _Prancing Unicorn,_ disappeared once he stepped onto the stage and picked up his guitar from where Hagrid had left it leaning against Fabian’s bass drum. He took a calming breath and determined not to look into the crowd, as he fiddled with his strings to make sure it was tuned to perfection. He blocked out the muted cheers and clapping that had commenced once he and his fellow bandmates had traipsed on to the stage. James, he noticed, basked in the attention, holding up both arms and grinning before he picked up his guitar. Fabian gave the crowd one wave, while Sirius simply picked up his bass and drowned the crowd out, much like Remus.

 

Remus listened carefully, waiting for Fabian to count them in. They had decided to start with Cloak of Invisibility because it was loud and fast, as well as being particularly guitar heavy. Recently, they’d added a complex, thrashing guitar solo to start the song and James had thought this was the best way to introduce Remus to the fans.

 

Then he heard it: _Click, Click, Click._

Immediately, he took a step forward and strummed the guitar, just once, the twanging, reverberating sound filling the low-ceilinged room. He waited a few seconds, as the crowd stayed silent, then his fingers moved quickly, as if of their own accord. They formed the correct cords one after another, mapping out the familiar Cloak of Invisibility riff, yet he played it his own messy way, a lot different from the album. Soon it evolved into a shred-style guitar solo, barely even keeping to what they’d agreed before hand. He let the music take control and he heard Sirius’ bass join in to back him up, then Fabian playing a simple groove on the ride to stay in the background. What he was playing got more complicated as he improvised. He soon went into a more picking pattern, softer than before, and Sirius and Fabian mirrored him. It sounded pretty similar to the guitar intro of _Led Zeppelin’s_ _Since I've Been Loving You_ , he mused, though slightly heavier. Then, he picked up the pace again and went harsher and heavier once more. Fabian and Sirius again followed his lead and both his hands were now moving so fast it was hard even for him to keep track. But he did, the high-pitched, ever changing sound of his guitar bold and resolute.

 

Finally, after probably three or four minutes, he let the last note of his solo fade out, accompanied by a crash of Fabian’s, then took up the Cloak of Invisibility riff again. Vaguely he heard the crowd cheer though the sound was muted because of his fierce concentration; whether they were cheering because of his solo or because of the song he didn’t know. James joined him and stepped to the front for the first time, his legs wide apart as he grinned at the audience. Remus subconsciously took a step back and place himself next to Sirius in the background, as James sang the first few lines of Cloak of Invisibility’s first verse.   

 

Cloak of Invisibility ended to applause and they moved on to the next song, then the next one. Remus took quite a few solos during the night, making sure each one was interesting but also different from each other. Even James took a solo, which was energetic and loud, if not entirely difficult. The crowd got more into it with every song, even forming a mosh pit during the spirited Hunters of the Night (one of the Marauder’s B-sides). Remus’ favourite part of the night was halfway through their cover of _I Fought the Law,_ when they had launched into an unplanned extended instrumental which had involved some brilliant bass playing by Sirius and another lengthy solo from Remus before Fabian had taken over with a nearly three-minute fill played all over his kit, from Low tom to ride to Hi-hat. Basildon Blues went down extremely well, too. Throughout the set James was the charming frontman, making funny quips and engaging with the crowd; his dance moves weren’t bad either.

 

When they reached their final song James leant forward and spoke into the mike with a slightly raspy voice, obviously suffering from nearly two hours use. “We’d just like to thank everyone for coming down tonight.” He said, as a few people whistled. “Yeah, it’s been fucking fantastic. Give it up for our new guitarist, Remus Lupin, one more time, eh?”

 

Remus raised a hand to acknowledge the rapturous applause and cheers. He allowed himself a small grin. The show had gone well, he’d played his heart out and the crowd seemed responsive. Actually, he didn’t think it could have gone much better.

 

“This is going to be our final song,” James continued, “I know, I know we’d like to stay longer but we’ll be back soon. This next number is called Mischief Managed!”

 

Mischief Managed ended up going just as well as the previous songs had and Remus left the stage with Sirius, James and Fabian with a relatively light sensation. It was as if the cheers of the crowd were lifting him up with joy. He was left, after entering the backstage door (which had been guarded by Hagrid during the show), feeling happy and contented.

 

It was surprising really, how much he’s life had changed over the last month or so. McGonagall’s cheques over the last few weeks were keeping him afloat rather comfortably in financial terms. He had new friends, was part of an actually decent band (and they were decent, no matter what Sirius and Gideon said) and he could even hold a conversation with Sirius- something he could never have imagined after his first meeting with the surly bassist. All in all, things were looking up.

 

There were already more than thirty people in the back dressing room and couple adjoining rooms. When the foursome entered a loud cheer went up and glasses of clear liquid, which turned out to be pure vodka, were shoved into their hands. It seemed that the group of people was made up of some of the Marauder’s’ most ardent fans, some of whom had been invited backstage beforehand, others had been lucky to pick up some of the backstage passes Gideon had doled out over the course of the show- this seemed to be mostly pretty girls, with their cleavage in full view. Indeed Fabian headed straight for a big group of girls as soon as they walked in. Sirius headed for the drinks table to get, “even more smashed,” as he put it, followed by a group of star-struck admirers. James waved at the crowd then pulled two stunningly beautiful women from amongst the mob of people and faced Remus, whilst slinging both arms over each of the girl’s shoulders.

 

“I’d like you to meet a few people, Remus,” James said. “This wonderful lady is Marlene McKinnon, and this one here is the insatiable Mary Macdonald.” The women beamed at him.

 

Marlene, who had long, flowing blonde hair and a delicately pretty face, fluttered her eye-lashes alluringly and said, “Oh Remus, we’ve heard so much about you! I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve meet, me and Mary wanted to meet you weeks ago!”

 

“Aye, tha’ we ‘ave,” Mary spoke with a heavy Scottish accent. She had short, curly brown hair and a pretty large pair of breasts. “You were fuckin’ great tonigh’, by the way.” She added.

 

“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you both, too.” Remus smiled uncertainly and took a sip from his vodka. “How long have you known the band?”

 

“We sort of tagged along on their tour at the end of last year.” Marlene replied. Remus did not need to ask what exactly their role had been and what they had done for- and with- the band.

 

“Sounds great.”

 

“Aye, it wer’ a lotta fun.” Mary nodded.

 

“These ladies can party like you wouldn’t believe, mate!” James laughed. Before he could reply he heard a loud female voice call to him.

 

“Remus!” He turned and saw Dorcas and Emmeline running towards him. He enveloped them in a hug when they reached him, laughing.

 

“I didn’t know you guys were here!”

 

“I wasn’t about to miss your first concert!” Dorcas said, grinning.

 

“You were bloody great! So good!” Emmeline gushed.

 

“Cheers, Lovegoods not come?”

 

“Nah,” Emmeline snorted. “You know them. Think they said something about a breakthrough in their ‘Bowie is also James Callaghan’ theory, this time. Bonkers.”

 

“Guys,” He said, motioning behind him. “This is James Potter and his friends, Marlene and Mary. James, these are my friends, Dorcas and Emmeline.”

 

“A pleasure.” James smiled brightly and stepped up to kiss Dorcas on the hand.

 

“Don’t even try it, pretty boy,” Dorcas snorted. “I’m a lesbian.”

 

James froze and blinked uncertainly. Remus hoped it was because he was embarrassed he’d hit on her, not because he wasn’t comfortable with her sexuality. Mary and Marlene, however, roared with laughter.

 

“Oh, we are certainly going to get on.” Marlene smirked evilly.

 

“Wan’ to get some more drinks- then we can see whether any o’ the girls here are interested?” Mary asked her.

 

“Definitely.” Dorcas nodded and Marlene grabbed her hand and lead her away, Mary cackling with laughter as she trailed behind them. Remus shook his head bemusedly and turned to James, who was still staring into the space Dorcas had located.

 

“You alright?” He asked him.

 

“Fine, that was just… unexpected.” He looked at Remus with a serious expression. “I need to go snog some girl, to regain some of my lost masculinity.” With that, he rushed off.

 

Remus spent the next half an hour with Emmeline, steadily getting more and more drunk. She then rushed off to the toilet and he didn’t see her again. Assumedly she had meet a hot guy on the way back- that tended to happen a lot with Emmeline. So, he set out on his own.

 

He was greeted as a hero by most people, which gave him a rather satisfied, self-indulgent feeling. He spoke to a at least eight people who complimented his performance and four of those were girls who were clearly hitting on him. He tried to let them down easy.

 

He ended up getting into a rather odd conversation with a clearly stoned guy on the meaning of music, that he just couldn’t seem to escape.

 

“It’s like we’ve lost the way, you know?” The guy said, his eyes wide and beard unkempt.

 

“Hmm, yes.” Remus said absentmindedly, looking around for an excuse to duck out of the conversation.

 

“We’ve got the rock but not the roll, man.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I mean, dude, let’s be honest. The stripped back sound of today hardly compares to some of the great music of the sixties.”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“Music has lost the way. It’s so sad.”

 

“Hey, Remus!” He jumped at the sound of Fabian’s voice behind him.

 

“Sorry, that’s my friend. Catch up with you later?” He left quickly before the bloke could say another word.

 

Fabian was sat on a sofa with no less than three women. On the table in front of him was an empty little plastic bag and a small pile of white powder. He looked relaxed and happy but the constant tapping of his hand against his leg and his frequent blinking spoke to his current state.

 

“Where you been all night?” Fabian asked him, as one of the girls moved up to allow Remus to seat down.

 

“Here and there. Some of these fuckers here are weird.” He said, thinking of the last guy he had spoken to.

 

“Yeah, don’t know why Gideon gave passes to some of these retards. And why are there so many men here?”

 

Remus laughed. “There’s hardly any!”

 

“Still too many.”

 

“So, if you had your way it would just be us and, like, forty girls?”

 

“Er, yes.” Fabian said, as if it was obvious.

 

“Right.” They grinned at each other, then Fabian gestured to the table in front of him.

 

“Want a line?”

 

He was tempted but in the end declined. Usually cocaine just made him talk more and made his jaw feel numb. True, it was also good for energy, but he could still feel the lingering adrenaline from the concert. Energy was not something he needed, in fact he felt completely awake and content. Use of drugs would mess with that negatively, not just positively.

 

The night wore on and somehow Remus found himself, about two hours after his chat with Fabian, on top of the table with his shirt off dancing to some awful _Bee Gees_ disco hit about five years old. People were crowded around the table cheering him on, the alcohol inside of him spurring him to continue. For an unknown, stupid reason he then proceeded to do the Y.M.C.A dance- it didn’t even fit the beat.  

 

“Remus, you bloody idiot, get down!” James’ voice broke through his drunken revelry and he stopped his dancing in confusion. He looked down to see Fabian, James, Gideon and Sirius staring up at him in amusement.

 

“Hey guys!” He called in drunken excitement, after a few seconds. “Wanna join me up here? Plenty a room on this table!”

 

“Get down!” Gideon exclaimed.

 

“Nice, Lupin.” Smirked Fabian. “Now we know what happens when you get a few drinks in you.”

 

“We going head out now. Maybe find a couple more bars, where nobody knows who we bloody are. You in?” James said, as he dragged Remus forceful back to the ground.

 

“Er- yeah, I guess.” Remus muttered, the alcohol making him slower. “Lets go then.”

 

“Might want to put your shirt on, first,” said Sirius. Remus blushed and hastened to put his shirt and leather jacket back on.

 

Waving off the various individuals who tried to talk to them, the five of them made their way out of the crowded, smoky room and towards the back-door exit.

 

“Where are McGonagall and Hagrid?” He asked on the way, his senses gradually coming back to him.

 

“Oh, Minnie’s doing some post-show stuff.” James said. “Sorting out the money we made, seeing if any of the press are going to review it, and just generally how it went.”

 

“Hagrid’s taking the equipment back.” Gideon explained.

 

“And you left him to do it all by himself, Gideon.” Fabian shook his head. “Mummy will be so disappointed- you not doing your job properly, after all.”

 

“Shut up, Fabian. It’s your bloody equipment, you lazy bastard.”

 

“Gideon, Gideon what are we to do with you? It’s your job, not mine.”

 

“You know what, Fab-”

 

“Oh both of you shut the fuck up!” Sirius said with a groan.

 

“Hagrid’s already done it, so it’s no use arguing about it now.” James said evenly.

 

By now they had reached the alley outside and the biting frigid air blew through them. Remus shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he had more than a rather thin leather jacket to protect him from the cold. It was dark out, extremely dark, although he could see the lights from the main street glowing brightly, a beacon in the blackness. It cast a faded, murky light across the alley, which gave a rather haunting effect.

 

“Ah, finally the heroes of the hour grace us with their presence.” A high shrill voice, colder than even the night air, rang out in the narrow alleyway.

 

Remus turned to stare at four hooded figures, who had seemed to just appear at the end of the alley furthest away from the door they had just used to exit from the _Prancing Unicorn_. The foremost figure, who had clearly been the one that had just spoken, stood a few steps in front of his companions. Remus couldn’t make out much of the man’s face but he thought he could just make out a pale face and high, handsome cheekbones.

 

Again, Remus could make out little of the three other figures, though he could see one was short and chubby, and another tall with long blonde hair cascading from out of his hood. The third figure was definitely a woman. She was slouched with one hand resting on her hip, as if she was bored.

 

Remus felt those around him immediately tense and face the unknown group. Fabian and Gideon had adopted fighting poses, the hands balled by their sides and feet far apart. Sirius had tried to take a menacing step forwards, towards the man, but James had raised an arm to physically bar him from moving. All four had looks of pure loathing on their face.

 

“Get the fuck out of here, all of you.” James’ voice sounded calm but Remus thought he knew him well enough to deduct and undercurrent of hatred in his tone. That was odd coming from James Potter, one of the nicest people Remus had ever meet.

 

“Now, now is that any way to greet an old friend, Potter?” The man replied, in the same piercing voice.

 

“I said get out. Now.” James said and Remus noticed that James glanced towards the short, chubby figure before levelling his eyes at the man who Remus supposed was the leader again. Sirius, too, was glaring intensely at the chubby one and if looks could kill, that man would be dead a thousand times over, Remus imagined.

 

“Rude as always.” The main figure shook his head, mockingly. Remus was starting to get seriously freaked out now and he had no idea what the fuck was happening.

 

The man turned to Remus for the first time and he shivered when he felt the man’s eyes on him- and not because of the cold, this time.

 

“Yes, the new one. I hear you performed admirably tonight. Congratulations.” Remus gulped and glanced at his friends uncertainly.

 

“Oh, I forget myself. I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? I do apologise.” He stepped closer to them, revealing a handsome face, jet black hair and dark eyes. Sirius made to move forward but, again, he was stopped by James. The man grinned evilly and manically at Remus, a grin that caused every hair on his body to stand on end.

 

“My name is Tom Riddle.” He said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the beginning are from Paranoid by Black Sabbath.
> 
> Really excited to see how this chapter goes down, dont hesitate to comment or kudos.


	6. Some Explanation

_So, so you think you can tell,_

_Heaven from Hell?_

_Blue skies from pain?_

_Can you tell a green field,_

_From a cold steel rail?_

Tom Riddle offered him a hand to shake. Remus studied the soft, pale hands and perfectly manicured fingernails. It didn’t look like this man had worked a real job in his life. There was a bright, clearly expensive silver ring on the index finger of his right hand. It was engraved with a coiled and spitting snake.

 

Sirius let out a low growl when Riddle offered Remus his hand and the man shot Sirius a bemused and condescending look. Sirius might not be Remus’ best friend but to see him addressed in such a patronising manner just made Remus angrier. He steadfastly ignored Riddle’s stupidly soft hand.

 

“It seems as if you have followed your new bandmates in their shockingly rude behaviour.” Riddle purred, as he extracted his hand. “They’ve rubbed off on you already, unfortunately.”

 

“Er- I don’t know about that.” Remus said, finally finding his voice. “But I do know James has asked you to back off.” He’d wanted to sound strong and authoritative but, even to himself, he knew his voice cracked and was a lot higher than usual. Riddle simply smirked.

 

“And here I was thinking we could have a nice catch-”

 

“Alright, enough of this fucking bullshit! Clear off or I will bash your worthless fucking skull in!” Sirius spat, his voice dripping with venom.

 

“Padfoot…”

 

“No, James! How dare this… this piece of shit walk in here after… after…” Sirius broke off, his voice sounding pained. Not for the first time since Riddle and his group had appeared, Remus was felt completely lost, not knowing what was going on.

 

“Did nobody ever tell you not to interrupt, Black?” Riddle asked, with a mocking eyebrow raised. “Honestly, the best education money could buy, yet you have the manners of a stray mutt.”  

 

Riddle’s friends cackled with laughter and the woman stepped closer. She had black, frizzy hair that reached down to her thin waist. Her eyes were wide with mirth and Remus though she looked crazier than even Riddle. “He never did have any decency, even as a child. The little bastard was never happy until he’d caused embarrassment and misery to his poor folks,” she said, grinning widely and evilly at Sirius.

 

“Shut up, Bella,” Sirius chocked out the woman’s name with difficulty, as if he had trouble even saying it. “How can you stand by this mad fucker’s side? I know you’re an evil cunt but after what he did-”

 

“Tom did nothing.” Bella said. “You and I both know he didn’t force Re-”

 

“Don’t say his name.” Sirius, surprisingly, didn’t shout, but spoke in a low, dangerous voice that made Bella step back and even Riddle watch carefully. “Don’t you dare say his fucking name.”

 

Alarmed, Remus noticed Sirius had tears in his eyes. He wasn’t the only one. James cautiously laid a comforting hand on Sirius’ shoulder and lent in to his ear to whisper something that only Sirius could hear. Fabian and Gideon stepped in front of Sirius, blocking him from Riddle. They acted like a sort of barrier, making it so Riddle, Bella and their two friends could barely even see Sirius. Remus was left standing off to the side, feeling like an intruder.

 

“Ah, still a sore spot that, is it?” Riddle asked, as though he found it funny.

 

“Don’t, Riddle.” Fabian warned.

 

“Leave him alone.” Gideon added.

 

“I mean no harm.” Riddle held up his hands. Fabian snorted derisively.

 

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” James questioned from behind the twins.

 

“I merely sought to offer my congratulations at your performance tonight.” Riddle said, in an air of fake innocence. “Is that so wrong?”

 

“Yeah, actually, it is.” James said coolly. “Considering it’s been months since we last saw you and I believe Sirius promised he’d kill you if we ever saw you again.”

 

“Especially seeing as you’ve brought that traitorous, fat sack of horse shit with you.” Sirius said, stabbing a finger at the chubby friend of Riddle’s. The chubby figure shifted nervously and looked to Riddle for guidance, who waved him off dismissively.  

 

“It appears, my friends,” Riddle said to his three companions, “we are not welcome here. A pity, but what can one expect from those such as these? Very well. We shall take our leave. But remember this, Marauders, do not try anything. Do not speak one word of what you think happened or what you think I did or have done. I have friends, powerful friends and if you go running your mouths, then… well, I don’t think you will be pleased with the results. Not one bit.”

 

“How dare you! You arrogant fucking shit!” Sirius screeched. “After what you’ve done we shou-”

 

“Sirius.” James said, as a warning and Sirius stopped speaking, though he continued to glare at Riddle. “Believe me, Riddle, if we had proof or even circumstantial evidence we’d have gone to the police months ago.”

 

“But you haven’t so you didn’t and you won’t.” Riddle grinned, then turned away. “Come, Bellatrix, Lucius, Peter. We shall leave these fools to do whatever it is they do. Lovely meeting you Remus. Until next time.” Riddle waved, then left. His heavy footsteps reverberated through the alley, filling Remus’ ears, as he and his friends stayed silent to watch Riddle’s fading back. Bellatrix, Peter and Lucius followed quickly like faithful puppies, though not before Bellatrix gave Sirius a mocking bow.

 

When they’d gone there was a heavy, tense silence. Gideon and Fabian relaxed slightly, Gideon running a worried hand through his hair, while Fabian lent against the _Prancing Pony_ ’s outer wall and lit up a fag. James kept a firm hand on Sirius shoulder and seemed to be having a silent, heated telepathic discussion with him. Both of them made slight gestures, a flick of an eyebrow here or a tiny nod there. Eventually, after at least twenty seconds, Sirius seemed to have had enough and wrenched himself violently from James’ grasp.

 

“I cannot fucking believe him!” He seethed. “After all that he did he comes prancing in, expecting us to be all lovey dovey. The fucking twat! Asshole! Absolute Cunt!”

 

“Sirius, calm down.” James said, sounding as if he’d been through this all before.

 

“Calm down? You’re asking me to fucking calm down?” Sirius yelled, tears running quick and fast down his flushed face. “I can’t believe you’re sticking up for that asshole!”

 

“Sirius, it’s over. There’s nothing you can-”

 

“It’s not about what I can do! It’s what I should’ve-” Sirius broke off and glanced around at Remus and the twins fearfully, as if realising for the first time he and James weren’t alone. Suddenly, Sirius looked like a deer caught in headlights. Fear, anger, sadness and desperation seemed to flick through his face creating a collage of emotions that left him stricken.

 

“Sirius…” James took a step forward with another hand outstretched, his voice bursting with thinly concealed emotion. Sirius took a step back and shook his head once, though it seemed more like a stiff jerk to one side.

 

“I… I need to go…” Sirius said, as he took several more steps backwards. He then turned his back to leave.

 

“Please, Sirius. Wait!”

 

But then he was gone.

 

James ran a hand furiously through his hair and let out a long breath. He turned to the others and said, “I need to go find him, make sure he doesn’t do anything… drastic. You’ll let McGonagall know what happened?” James directed this at Gideon, who nodded in response. James nodded curtly at Remus and left, running to catch up with Sirius.

 

All the giddiness and drunken enjoyment Remus had experienced ever since he stepped off the stage earlier, had disappeared. Four weird, and extremely creepy, cloaked figures had appeared and made threat after violent threat. What’s more, it turned out his new friends had some sort of history with the buggers. One of his band mates had then split off because of some past trauma or something similar, another running off to stop him from hurting someone else or, god forbid, himself. Remus didn’t know how it had all gone so wrong so quickly.

 

The twins stayed silent, Fabian continuing to smoke, while Gideon stared intently at the end of the alley where first Riddle and his friends had exited, then Sirius and James. After a while, Remus decided he needed to break the silence and find out what the fuck just happened.

 

“Um… so- what the fuck was that?” Not exactly the most eloquent of ways to put it, but it got the point across.

 

Gideon and Fabian glanced at each other, sharing a look that Remus didn’t understand the meaning of.

 

“I don’t think it’s our place to say.” Gideon ventured, carefully.

 

“We can tell him some of it.” Fabian shrugged as Gideon shot him a glare. “The beginning, at least.”

 

“That’s just going to make him more confused.” Gideon said, irritably. Already this was bordering on an argument.

 

“Well we can’t bloody well tell him the rest without Sirius’ permission.”

 

“Then we don’t tell him any of it!”

 

“After that? We’ve got to explain some of it or it’s just unfair.”

 

“Fine!” Gideon relented. “Fine, but only some.” He turned to Remus. “Hope you understand.” He didn’t but he nodded anyway.

 

“Well, after we were signed on by Order of the Phoenix, the higher ups, namely the CEO, Albus Dumbledore, felt we needed some help.” Fabian explained. “None of us really knew about writing or recording so we agreed. Dumbledore brought in Tom Riddle. I think he was recommended by Dumbledore’s old friend and ex Phoenix deputy CEO, Horace Slughorn. Riddle had a decent up-coming band, the Death Eaters, who were being lauded by critics. Bit emo for me, but I guess their stuff’s alright. Heard of them?” He had.

 

“Yeah, I think I’ve got one of their records, didn’t know Riddle was involved.”

 

“Yeah, he’s their frontman.” Gideon continued the story. “Anyway, at first it was alright. He was creepy, even then, but made some good suggestions and even helped out Peter on some of the trickier guitar parts.”

 

“Peter?”

 

“Our old guitarist, before you.” Fabian said. “He was the fat fucker behind Riddle tonight.” Remus blinked, confused.

 

“Wait, your old guitarist was with Riddle?”

 

“Yep, he’s in the Death Eaters now, the bastard.” Fabian spat on the ground in disgust.

 

“So anyway,” Gideon said, “it was fine. Until it wasn’t. He’d disappear at weird times and had these weird hangers on, who’d follow him around and do whatever he wanted. That yellow-haired shit, Lucius Malfoy was one.”

 

“Took the word ‘groupie’ to a new level.” Fabian noted.

 

“Then Peter started doing things for him. Small stuff at first, then larger things until he ended up just like the rest of them.” Gideon said with a pained expression. “We had know idea why.”

 

“So James and Sirius, who had been best friends with that lump since they were twelve years old, went ‘round his flat one night. He wasn’t there but James had a spare key so they went in anyway.” Fabian said. “Apparently the place was a right tip.”

 

“They looked around a bit and found something particularly interesting.” Gideon said.

 

“Namely, heroin.” Fabian said. Remus blanched. He’d come across that particular drug a few times over the years, always to the detriment of others; thank god, he’d never tried the stuff before. He’d likely be dead if he had.

 

“Shit.” Remus muttered. “So, what… Riddle’s an addict too?” Fabian laughed.

 

“Oh no, that bastard’s just the dealer.” He said. “It’s how he controls the lot of them. Give them a little at first ‘on the house’. Gets ‘em hooked. So, when they need more, their next fix, they go to him. And he won’t do that until they do him a little favour, first.”

 

“Little by little,” Gideon took over from his twin, “favour by favour his influence on them grows. Until finally… he controls them. They live for that next hit, that next fix. And he’s the only one who can give it to them.”

 

“That’s fucking… bloody…” Remus couldn’t find the words. Horrific, inhumane, evil; all of them didn’t seem to do it justice. “If that’s what he did to Peter why are you so angry with him? Shouldn’t you have some sympathy for him? Get him some help?”

 

“Trust me, Remus.” Gideon said, seriously. “That was our first reaction, other than kicking Riddle out on his arse for getting Pete hooked. Especially James and Sirius, the three had been best friends for years. But what Peter did next…”

 

“That’s something no one can forgive.” Fabian finished, sounding uncharacteristically sombre.

 

“But I’m afraid, Remus, that’s where we’re going to have to finish.” Gideon said. “We can’t say anything else, that’s not our place. It’s Sirius’.”

 

“And don’t ask him, either.” Fabian warned. “If he ever gets close enough to tell you, he will when he’s ready- and not before.”

 

“It’s unlikely he will get close, and definitely not soon.” Gideon said. “Sirius has trust issues that have only been confounded by this fiasco. I could count the number of people he’s truly comfortable around with one finger.”

 

“James.” Fabian supplied. Remus was surprised.

 

“Not either of you?”

 

“No, I mean we’re friends, sure, but he’s not about to share any deep, dark secrets with us.” Gideon explained.

 

“I see.” Remus frowned. “And not family?” Both the twins’ expressions darkened.

 

“No. Definitely not family.” Gideon said quietly.

 

“Well,” Fabian gave Remus a wan smile, as he flicked the cigarette butt to the ground, “try not to worry about it. It’s not your problem. Go home and focus on the kick-ass performance you put in tonight.” Gideon nodded in agreement.

 

“I think we should turn in, Fab.” He said to his twin. “It’s been a long night.”

 

As he bid the two men goodbye, Remus couldn’t help but reflect on what had happened and its effect on Sirius, despite what they said. Riddle was obviously the worst human being Remus had ever meet and even though the twins said Peter had done something awful, he still felt sorry for the man and any other under Riddle’s spell. What he wondered most about, however was Sirius. He pictured Sirius’ pained, tear streaked face and watery eyes. His anger and sadness at Riddle’s appearance. Something awful had obviously happened that affected him deeply and terribly. And, for some unknown, inexplicable, reason that fact hurt Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song at the beginning from the great song Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd.
> 
> This chapter took a while and isn't that long, namely because I couldn't figure out how much to explain but here you go, Hope its not too much of a disappointment.
> 
> Don't hesitate to comment or kudos, if you want


	7. Keep Going

_I could tell you about my life,_

_And keep you amused I'm sure._

_About all the times I've cried,_

_And how I don't want to be sad anymore._

_And how I wish I was in love._

 

 

_The Marauders at the Prancing Unicorn- concert review by Andy Smudgley._

_I honestly don’t know where to start with The Marauders. Their first, largely under-whelming, album was released at the end of last year and at the time I was not impressed. So-so guitar and vocals, only the drums and bass kept that effort alive. However, I was coerced into accompanying a friend to one of their gigs after the album came out and was pleasantly surprised and quietly impressed (though not enough to write about). Then I hear they’ve dropped their guitarist (who has gone over to gothic outfit Death Eaters, wonder what happened there) and have recruited someone with little experience. And then they announced a show, not one month after this change-up. I must admit, I was intrigued._

_So there I found myself in a small venue just south of the Thames, slightly cramped but not quite sold out. There’s no great excitement or anticipation in the crowd. It seems most people are there for the lack of anything else to do. Then the band enters._

_It’s clear from the start this is a very different group. They start by introducing the new guitarist, a Remy Lupin, with a long, slightly self-indulgent solo, which is never the less brilliant. They’ve certainly found a talented, if a bit unrefined, guitarist to replace the old one (who always sounded out of depth, both live and on the album). I can sense the crowd immediately get into it. It’s like everyone suddenly realises ‘oh, shit these guys can actually play’, especially when the skilled bassist, Sirius Black, and energetic drummer, Fabian Prewett, join in._

_From there it gets better and better. It’s obvious that the new guitarist has settled in effortlessly and he gels particularly well with Black’s bass. James Potter is the ideal frontman, keeping the crowd enthralled throughout- he needs to work on his guitar, however, and his voice isn’t much cop. That doesn’t seem to matter, though, and even I was drawn in to his antics._

_Lupin is certainly fond of solos, and Prewett of fills, but I don’t blame him- they are all different but excellent. They played a host of covers and one new song, all of which went down well but none knocked me off my feet. Thankfully, they’ve changed each song from album slightly (assumedly this was Lupin’s input) and it shows. The changes, mostly to the guitar and bass parts, make the songs fresher and genuinely better. Who knows how their debut would’ve done with these changes?_

_And so by the end the whole audience, including myself, were enthusiastic with our applause and cheers. They are obviously skilled musicians and an excellent live band, with a gripping frontman. All ingredients of a world-class, multi-million album selling band. What they need to do is focus on the studio- show they can write and record a serious and great album with mature writing and music that captures the essence of their live playing._

_I, for one, will certainly be waiting for their next effort._

Remus finished reading the article, printed on the second to last page of the week’s _Melody Maker_ , over Gideon’s shoulder. James, McGonagall and Fabian sat opposite, James beaming like an idiot, Fabian looking like he didn’t care, though the corners of his mouth were curled upwards, and McGonagall looking stern. Hagrid was humming an _Elton John_ song under his breath as he set up their equipment for the day’s work in the recording studio. It was the Monday after the show, but McGonagall (and James) insisted on getting straight back in the studio.

 

“That’s a pretty decent review.” He said.

 

“Pretty decent?” James asked in disbelief. “It’s practically glowing!”

 

“They got my name wrong.” He pointed out. Fabian snorted and Remus shot him a death glare.

 

“Remy, Remus- practically the same thing. You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” James said. “They called us skilled musicians and an excellent live band, with a gripping frontman.”

 

“God, you’ve actually memorised it haven’t you?” Fabian said.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Well, I believe they also say about you,” Gideon smirked as he read directly from the article, “needs to work on his guitar, however, and his voice isn’t much cop.”

 

Remus and Fabian laughed, as James’ smile lessened somewhat. Remus immediately felt guilty. Causing James Potter any amount of sadness was like was like kicking a puppy.

 

“Still, overall a positive review. Apparently, you’re enthralling.”

 

James’ grin reappeared, and he said, “Thanks Remus! And they said we need to prove it in the studio now and I agree. That means double effort and double time- we have to work our fingers to the bone on this album.” Remus and the twins groaned.

 

“Thanks for encouraging him, Remy.” Fabian muttered under his breath. It took all of Remus’ self-control not to punch him.

 

“Call me that again and I’ll start calling you Piggy like Sirius does.” He threatened.

 

“You wouldn’t.” Fabian growled.

 

“Just try me, Pig-”

 

“Fine!”

 

“Speaking of Black,” McGonagall cut in for the first time, “Where is he?” Everyone turned to James.

 

“He won’t be here today. Hopefully he’ll be here tomorrow, if not then Wednesday.” James explained.

 

“And what, pray tell, are we supposed to do without a bassist?” Fabian asked, with a raised eyebrow.

 

“We’ll be fine,” James said, dismissively. “We have done it before.”

 

“Not with your new ‘fingers to the bone’ strategy.” Remus said.

 

“Potter is right.” McGonagall said. James sat up straighter. “You’ll just have to do without Black for the next day or two.”

 

Most of that day ended up being focused on lyrics. James was insistent that was one of their major weaknesses and areas of improvement. Remus was inclined to agree with him but didn’t see how involving the whole band would help much- Sirius wasn’t there, Remus just wasn’t great at lyric writing and Fabian got bored after ten minutes. Suffice to say, they didn’t get far that day.

 

On Tuesday Sirius didn’t turn up and James decided to go back to their instruments to work out some new music before Fabian staged a mutiny. On Wednesday Sirius still hadn’t turned up and halfway through the day Remus decided he needed a break. He left Fabian in the middle of an extended drum fill and made his way out the back of Bludger Studios. He lit up a cigarette and inhaled slowly, savouring the tobacco relief it granted him.

 

“Give me one, will you?”

 

Remus started at the voice and turned to see the man himself, Sirius Black, stepping of a motorcycle. It was a strange dark blue colour with a huge engine; Remus was surprised he hadn’t heard it. He didn’t know motorbikes that well but it looked of British or maybe American make, not Japanese.

 

Sirius looked awful. His shirt was stained and his hair was unruly. There were deep, dark bags under his eyes and his pale face looked almost gaunt. As he got closer, Remus could smell the alcohol on him and judging by the swaying of his body and far-away look in Sirius’ eyes he was still drunk. Wordlessly, Remus offered him the packet and then lit up the fag that Sirius had fumbled to pick out. While Sirius had always looked a little wild or rough around the ages, it was never like this. It was odd to see the usually dignified and aristocratic Sirius Black brought down to this mess.

 

“Bet I look a right mess, eh?” Sirius asked, as if reading Remus’ mind. He decided there was no point in lying.

 

“You look like shit.”

 

Sirius snorted and muttered, “you’re honest, at least. James would say I’m just having a poor day.”

 

They stood in relatively comfortably silence for a few moments, both focusing on the monotonous action of smoking. Raise the fag to their lips, inhale, focus on the taste, exhale. Repeat. This continued on for at least a minute until Remus spoke.

 

“You alright?” he asked, trying to be casual. Sirius stared at him without expression and Remus shifted awkwardly under his intense gaze.

 

“I’ll live.” Sirius said eventually. Remus knew that was the best he was going to get and changed the subject.

 

“Are you gonna come in? It’s been hard trying to write an album without a bass player.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Sirius said. “Can’t let Prongs down. He’s wanted this for a long time.”

 

“Yeah,” Remus said, with a smirk, “it certainly seems that way- I think he’s had to refrain from strangling Fabian four times today, already.”

 

“That’s James, alright.” Sirius said fondly with a nod.

 

“Did you read our review in Melody Maker?”

 

“Sure did, Remy.” Sirius grinned, as Remus groaned.

 

“Not you too!”

 

“James brought it over yesterday morning.” Sirius explained. “He was practically bouncing of the walls.”

 

“You know,” Remus said, “I think we might actually have something here.”

 

“Maybe.” Sirius shrugged, nonchalantly.

 

“Seriously, we’re alright. Best band I’ve been in on a permanent basis.”

 

“Only band I’ve been in.” Sirius said as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “But, yeah, I guess we could do okay for ourselves. Prongs certainly thinks so.”

 

“James Potter could put a positive thing on anything.”

 

Sirius laughed, actually laughed, full and heartily; Remus though it was a nice sound. Together the two of them turned and silently entered Bludger Studios, heading back to Studio B.

 

James was duly excited when Remus re-entered with Sirius in tow and even Fabian was pleased to see their MIA fellow bandmate. McGonagall raised an eyebrow at Sirius’ appearance but didn’t comment on it.

 

Everybody was surprised, however, when Sirius subconsciously pulled out a few sheets of paper with messy, scrawly handwriting on it.

 

“I, er, wrote down some ideas.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Lyrics, I guess.”

 

“You’ve never done that before!” James looked like Christmas had come early. “This is great! I thought I knew everything about you, but here you go surprising me!”

 

“Jesus, Prongs, calm the fuck down.” Sirius said, gruffly. “It’s probably all shit anyway.”

 

“Only one way to find out.” Gideon said. Sirius reluctantly handed over the lyrics.

 

Remus thought, in his uninformed opinion, that they were pretty good. Extremely dark, bordering on depressing, but good nonetheless. They weren’t to cryptic, either, which Remus liked. They were more direct and very personal. The rest, even McGonagall, liked them too but Remus noticed he wasn’t the only one who saw the depressed nature of the words. James was sending Sirius concerned looks every ten seconds.

 

The lyrics, and Sirius’ presence, seemed to give the band a much-needed burst of energy and creativity. Sirius already had a few bass parts marked out to fit the words and Remus immediately bounced a complicated guitar riff off him when he heard Sirius’ playing. Fabian joined in with a heavily accented groove and then James sang the lyrics over the top, and, suddenly, they had the beginnings of a song. They made a few tweaks to the lyrics, added a guitar solo and began working on a bridge part before stopping for the day.

 

The next day everyone was energised and ready; even Sirius looked presentable. Throughout the day they continued to work on the song James named ‘Hallowed Forest’ and Remus knew that everyone felt that this song was special, was maybe the start of the real band. He couldn’t explain it, but he started to notice subtle changes in everybody. The way Sirius’ shoulders seemed to relax whenever they were playing, Fabian’s usual lazy grin accompanied with an unknown glint in his eye and James’ contented, softer smile, which was so different from his usual manic beam. McGonagall seemed excited and Gideon looked on it all with approval. Hagrid was Hagrid.

 

They called up Moody on the Friday to begin recording Hallowed Forest. Remus watched as Fabian bashed out his part and Moody growled at him, “Show some restraint, boy. For fuck sake this is an album, you’re not playing live. Give me a few snare hits. No, not like that!”

 

“So,” he asked Sirius, who was sat next to him, “how do you feel? This song all started from you.”

 

“God, why is everybody acting like we’ve created _Stairway to Heaven_?” Sirius rolled his eyes.

 

“Come on,” Remus laughed, “even you’ve got to admit we are on a roll here. This song’s shaping up and thanks to more of you and James’ lyrics we’ve got a couple more on the backburner. Not too shabby.”

 

“Perhaps.” Sirius conceded. “But then again I’m sure _The Shaggs_ thought they were creating the best album ever when they were creating _Philosophy of the World_.”

 

“Well, some might say-”

 

“No.” Sirius raised a hand. “They can’t even play instruments, let alone make a decent album. Whoever thinks otherwise doesn’t know a thing about music.”

 

“It’s subjective.” Remus shrugged. “One man’s favourite album is another man’s least favourite. In the eye of the beholder and all that shit.”

 

“Whatever.” Sirius shook his head but Remus knew he was smiling and counted that as a personal victory.

 

“Well, things are on the up.” Remus said, happily. “I’m sure things are only going to continue to improve.”

 

Sirius looked disbelieving. “If you think that, then you can’t have much life experience. I’d like to see your face when you find out the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.” Remus knew he must have touched a nerve somehow, but he honestly didn’t see what was wrong with what he said. It was just a harmless remark.

 

Remus frowned. “I was just taking a leaf out of James’ book. Optimism and all that.”

 

“It was naive.”

 

That pissed Remus off. Sirius was really making something out of nothing, like he was looking for an argument. Perhaps he was. It also angered him because Sirius Black, the ultimate posh boy, acted like it was Remus who didn’t know how hard life could be.

 

“Look,” Remus said, angrily, “you don’t know what I’ve been through or experienced. I was just making a simple comment about the album, nothing else. Don’t presume to know everything about me because of that. While you were at some prestigious fucking boarding school, I was at an under-funded piece of shit school in the East End. I’ve been through things you couldn’t imagine. You don’t know anything about me; I know life isn’t all fun,” He finished darkly.

 

“Fine,” Sirius snapped, “but don’t think my life, even as a kid, was all that great either, just because I went to a private school. You just made the very same bloody assumptions.”

 

“Fine, I’m sorry. I was a hypocrite. And I overreacted.” Remus said, hotly.

 

“And I’m sorry. I took an innocent comment and made it something more.” Sirius replied in kind, with a glare at Remus. They stared at each other for several moments.

 

“That was the weirdest argument I’ve ever had.” Remus said, still staring.

 

“Maybe we should talk more about _Philosophy of the World_? You know, because you think it’s the best album ever made.” Sirius suggested, innocently. Remus’ face finally relaxed back into a smile.

 

“Yeah, even I can’t defend it that much.”

 

“You two!” Moody shouted, making them both jump. “Stop nattering on like a couple of old women. Get your asses in there and work. Now!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Man of the World by (Peter Green's) Fleetwood Mac.


	8. Night Out

_I try my best,_

_To be just like I am,_

_But everybody wants you,_

_To be just like them._

_They sing while you slave,_

_And I just get bored._

Remus was packing up his equipment after another productive day in the studio when James appeared before him, his trademark grin firmly in place.

 

“Good day, right?” The singer said. It had been. In fact, these past few weeks had been great- their burst of energy that had boosted them after Sirius returned hadn’t left them. Sirius himself had thrown himself into the work with vigour and, unusually for him, he was often the first in and last to leave. Having known Sirius for going on a few months now, Remus suspected he was ignoring something, or maybe putting something off. He was not close enough to him, however, to intervene in any way. That was James’ job.

 

“For sure.” Remus nodded. “We got, like, six good songs for the album now, right?”

 

“And a few backups in case.” James grinned.

 

Remus smiled at him and continued to pack away his things, as James continued to speak.

 

“We’re heading out for a few drinks, you coming?”

 

“Sure, just let me drop this stuff back at my flat.” Remus said. “Where are we meeting?”

 

“A bar a few streets over called _Lola’s_. Meet you there in like an hour?”

 

“Sure. See you then.” Remus zipped up his bag and turned to leave the room, when he noticed James was still hovering awkwardly behind him. He turned back towards his friend and raised an eyebrow. James opened his mouth, then closed it again with a troubled expression. “Yes, James?” Remus asked kindly, burying his irritation.

 

“Well, it’s, um… the, er, twins and Hagrid are coming but so is, er…”

 

Remus was secretly amused at the usually well-spoken man’s struggle to form a coherent sentence. After several seconds, however, it just got annoying.

 

“What is it, James?”

 

“Sirius.” James said, shortly.

 

And then it made sense. The turbulent relationship between Sirius and Remus had taken on a new form since the renewed studio time had started. The band were spending hours upon hours together, squashed up and breathing down each other’s necks. The two could talk politely to each other for just a minute or two, before it turned into a vicious and rather loud argument, quite suddenly. It didn’t matter what it was about; opinions on various bands and artists was the most common, but it had also strayed into the realms of politics and other completely pointless areas. The arguments were short however, and Sirius and Remus could often be found laughing together ten minutes later. McGonagall was at her wits end, though Moody was only mildly pissed off, as he seemed to be with most things. The twins for once agreed that the whole thing was hilarious.

 

“Don’t worry, Prongs,” Remus said, having been given permission to use James’ nickname, though he still called all the others by their real names, “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

 

“Thanks, mate.” James said with a relieved sigh. “I’ll talk to Padfoot too, though I doubt it will help much. He’s short-tempered enough at the best of times, but when alcohol’s involved, well…”

 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

 

“Excellent! Night out, Marauders style!”

 

Remus waved goodbye to James and made his way outside, nodding to the others as he passed. He noticed Sirius bending over his own guitar case, showing Remus a decent view. He gulped and hurriedly moved on, before someone caught him staring.

 

 

 

Remus leaned his elbows on another black table in another small, packed bar. The number of places like this that he’d been to since his rebellious year back when he was fourteen must be in the hundreds. They all merged together to him; the same grimy, dirt floor that you had to peel your shoe off whenever you took a step; the same cramped, dingy toilets with broken taps and flooded floors; even the staff seemed the same, with the hulking bouncer outside and the punk girl with too many piercings behind the bar. Suffice to say, he fucking loved it.

 

The rest of his bandmates, plus their two roadies (though Gideon disliked being called that), sat around him and Remus found it amusing to see them in a place like this. Fabian seemed at ease, as he did in most places, sitting back and flirting with anything that had tits. Gideon and Sirius, too, seemed surprisingly comfortable, all indicators of private education and old money apparently left at the recording studio. He supposed that they must have seen their fair share of places like this, too. James was the most obvious when it came down to his background, with his designer shirt and straight posture, to say nothing of the accent, but he was friendly enough that nobody he talked to cared all that much.

 

It was Hagrid that was by far the most amusing. Remus had only ever seen the gentle giant in the studio or at their concert a few weeks back and it was odd to see him sitting in a bar, drinking cider and laughing with James and Gideon. His huge frame towered over everyone, both sitting and standing, even when sitting down on a chair that he barely fit into. He had to dip his head slightly so as not to knock his head against the ceiling. The looks he was getting from customer and staff both brought laughs from Remus and Sirius, who was sat next to him in the corner, and they both giggled like schoolboys together.

 

“Who’s your favourite guitarist?” Sirius asked after they’d stopped laughing at Hagrid’s accidental knocking over of a man carrying drinks back from the bar to his table, and Hagrid’s hurried apologies at the man, who displayed both anger and fear at the giant in front of him.

 

Remus turned to the bassist and considered the question as he took a sip from his Heineken. This was dangerous territory, likely because it might cause an argument. He had promised James. Then again, Sirius looked to be in a good mood at that moment and Remus though it unlikely that he’d cause an argument in the middle of a crowded bar. As long as Remus was tactful, he could keep this conversation fun and calm, which he’d found he really enjoyed with Sirius.

 

“Favourite? I don’t really have a favourite, exactly.” Remus said. “I mean this is a boring answer, but the best is Jimi Hendrix.”

 

“Obviously.” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “On that we can actually agree but surely there’s someone who in particular you hear and you just get, I don’t know, Goosebumps.”

 

Remus frowned and thought. “I guess Peter Green could fit that description, I mean that early blues Fleetwood Mac stuff, is just magical,” Remus said, as Sirius nodded. “Maybe Duane Allman, too.”

 

“Duane Allman?”

 

“You surprised?”

 

“I just didn’t have you pegged for a southern rock fan.” Sirius admitted with a shrug.

 

“Oh, yeah. Allman Brothers, Skynyrd, ZZ Top, all that stuff, really.” Remus said. “Not that you have to be a fan of southern rock to be a fan of Duane Allman.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Well, his slide work and improvising is just plain genius.” Remus said, excitedly. “And pretty revolutionary for the time, as well. Not to mention all the parts he played as a session musician, not to do with the Allman Brothers band, like Layla.”

 

“Fair enough.” Sirius conceded. “Nice to see you get so passionate, Lupin.”

 

Remus blushed and took another sip of his drink. He gulped too much too quickly, however, and coughed half of it up. Sirius grinned wickedly, and Remus went an even deeper shade of red.

 

“What about you?” Remus choked out, to turn attention away from his embarrassment. “Got a favourite bassist?”

 

“Suppose most would go for John Entwistle or maybe Paul McCartney, though that’s mixing up song writing and bass playing.” Sirius shrugged. “I think I’d go for Geezer Butler, just because Paranoid was like the first album I ever listened to that wasn’t the Beatles or the Stones. And he’d create these weird, low, thick notes and tones that seemed crazy to me at the time. Noise pissed the folks off too.”

 

“That’s always a bonus.” Laughed Remus, though he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at Sirius again hinting at his troubled childhood.

 

“Oi, you two!” Fabian called. “We need a second opinion over here!”

 

“I’m telling you it’s Elizabeth Taylor, all day every day.” James said, firmly.

 

“She’s like fifty!” Fabian snorted.

 

“Woah, what’s the question?” Sirius asked.

 

“Elizabeth Taylor or Farrah Fawcett.” Gideon informed them. “We’re all agreed, ‘cept James, that Taylor’s best years are behind her.”

 

“She’s still got her moves.” James insisted. “I mean, have you seen her tits?”

 

“So, what do you two think?” Gideon cut across him, as Fabian dissolved into laughter and Hagrid shook his head.

 

“Fawcett, obviously Prongs, you absolute nutter.” Sirius smirked.

 

“Hey, how dare you all besmirch Elizabeth Taylor’s good name!” James sounded incensed in his righteous anger.

 

“Remus?” Fabian asked, after he’d recovered from his laughing fit.

 

“I think you should stop drooling over girls who you’ve never met and will never go for you and start actually meeting birds who are in this room. You know, who you have a chance with.”

 

And with that, Remus got up to buy another round.

 

“Shit,” Fabian breathed from behind, “Lupin’s got class.”

 

“Or he’s just a prude.” Sirius countered.

 

Remus smirked.

 

After buying the next round, and another half hour or so of conversation, the group split up. Hagrid headed home (it turned out that despite the man’s body mass, he was a bit of a lightweight), while James and Fabian decided to follow Remus’ advice and began to chat up a couple of girls by the bar. Remus left Sirius and Gideon in the middle of a brutal drinking game (they were on their eighth shot when he left them, both still going strong) and headed to the exit, feeling the need for a fag break.

 

He stepped outside and immediately reached into his pocket for his pack of cigs and his old lighter. The street was deserted. He had just taken his first drag when he heard the door open behind him. It was man, probably a few years older than himself, with a short red beard and close cropped, military-style hair. Remus thought he had been sat a few tables over from his group, with another man. Remus had caught him looking over at him a few times, though hadn’t given it much thought. Until now.

 

The man nodded at him. Remus nodded back.

 

“Want one?” He offered the man his pack of cigarettes.

 

“No.” The man said shortly. “Thanks.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The man didn’t move, just stood there staring at Remus and biting his lip. What was this guy’s issue? Had Riddle sent him? Remus balled his spare hand into a fist.

 

“Was there something you wanted?” Remus asked tensely, after several seconds.

 

“No- yes… er…” The man visibly took a deep breath. He was nervous, Remus realised. “Ah, fuck it,” the guy muttered and launched himself forward.

 

Remus brought his fist up to fight and was about to step back when he realised the guy wasn’t attacking him. He was kissing him. The man’s beard scratched his chin, as he kissed him chastely on the mouth. After getting over his shock, Remus gently put a hand on his cheek and pulled back.

 

“Oh, shit you’re not queer are you?” The man looked panicked. “Look mate I’m sorry-”

 

“It’s fine.” Remus held up a hand. “I am, actually. How’d you guess?”

 

“Oh,” he said, obviously relieved. “Your coat sleeve.”

 

Remus looked and cursed himself for being such an idiot. He was wearing his, ‘gay coat’ as Emmeline put it. On his right sleeve, just below the shoulder was sewn the rainbow flag, it’s colours a bright island in a sea of dark. On his left shoulder the name, ‘Harvey Milk,’ were displayed in white lettering. The present had been a gift from Dorcas, after they found out about Milk’s assassination a year or so ago. Not many people in Britain knew of the flag, or Milk so he sometimes got away with wearing out to non-gay bars and clubs, but he shouldn’t have worn it tonight. Had any of his friends seen? Would they know what it meant?

 

“I see,” Remus breathed. “What’s your name?”

 

“Alex. You?” The man seemed much more confident, now that he’d been proven right.

 

“Remus.”

 

The man stepped closer. “That’s a nice name. Unusual, but nice.” Their faces were inches apart again.

 

“Thanks.” Remus murmured.

 

He leant in and pressed their lips together once more. Alex responded immediately. Remus place both hands behind Alex’s neck and felt the other man’s hands grasp either side of his hips. He had just slipped a tongue in, when the door opened again.

 

Both men stilled, and Remus glanced over at the door. What he saw made his stomach lurch horribly.

 

Because standing in the doorway was Sirius Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Maggie's Farm by Bob Dylan. 
> 
> Sorry for the huge, inexcusable 2 month delay. I took a break off at Christmas and then had a shit ton of work at the beginning of January.


	9. Turmoil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!
> 
> Here you go...

_Sugar Plum Fairy came and hit the streets,_

_Lookin' for soul food and a place to eat._

_Went to the Apollo._

_You should have seen him go, go, go._

_They said, hey Sugar, take a walk on the wild side._

 

Sirius was white as a sheet and his mouth was open in a perfect O. His widened grey eyes swivelled from Remus to his companion, who were both still frozen in their embrace. Remus didn’t move an inch.

 

There was an impasse for several long, tortuous moments as both parties stared at each other. Then, the guy Remus had been kissing (he’s name had shot out of his mind as soon as Sirius Black had entered the scene) took a step back and looked between the two bandmates.

 

“Er, friend of yours?”

 

Remus didn’t answer.  Sirius was still staring at him intensely with those fucking alluring eyes. A seemingly unending list of worries and fears ran through his head- would Sirius beat him up? Would he tell the rest? How would they react? Was he going to be kicked out of the band?

 

Intermingled with the worries Remus cursed himself silently for being such an idiot. Why did he wear this coat, then snog some random bloke in the middle of the street outside a bar where his new friends, who he wasn’t out to, were? He was a plain moron.  

 

Sirius’ voice snapped him abruptly out of his thoughts.

 

“To each his own I guess, eh?” His voice came out high and jittery, and so utterly un-Sirius like. Remus hated it.

 

“Look I’d better...” He barely noticed whats-his-face make his quick escape behind him. He probably though Sirius was about to beat them up; maybe he was.

 

“That’s- it’s not what it l-looks like.” Remus managed to stutter out.

 

Sirius just continued to look at him.

 

“Fine!” Remus angrily exclaimed. “I like-” he lowered his voice-“men. Boys. There!”

 

Sirius raised an eyebrow at that but again didn’t say anything.

 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Remus asked. “Beat me up? Call me unnatural, perhaps?”

 

That finally got a response. Sirius’ eyes bulged, and he took a small step towards Remus. Remus observed him, as he licked his lips nervously and wiped his visibly sweaty hands on his shirt.

 

“Remus, I…” Sirius took a breath. “I don’t think that. I don’t mind, not at all. Okay?”

 

Remus didn’t believe him. Sirius looked far too shaken, far too uncomfortable for him to be completely okay with this. No doubt Sirius’ posh, conservative upbringing were currently whispering inside his head, painting Remus as abnormal, feminine who was just ‘confused’ with his ‘chosen lifestyle’- at least that’s what he’d been told before. It was not a pleasant experience, especially when it was a kind looking old lady doing the yelling.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Remus said sullenly.

 

“Great, er, good.”

 

There was a long pause as Remus stared at Sirius’ face. Sirius, for his part, determinedly avoided his gaze, instead choosing to switch roam his eyes from the rough, wet floor to the starry night and back again. It was another sign to Remus that Sirius was not taking this news exceptionally well.

 

Then Sirius stretched his arms up above his head and yawned audibly- Remus suspected he was faking. Sirius took several steps backwards and tried flashing Remus a half-smirk, though the result was more of a mangled grimace.

 

“I better head home and hit the hay.” The bassist said quickly. “Tell the other lot, will you?”

 

Remus wanted to refuse. He wanted to stop the other man from leaving and make them talk about this, really talk about this. Then he could find out Sirius’ true opinion, which, while doubtless negative, would at least lay it all out there and make it clear where each of them stood. After that Remus could try and convince him to keep it quiet from the rest of their band, or, if Sirius refused, leave the Marauders with as little hassle possible. The best scenario for all involved.

 

He did not do that, however. He just couldn’t find the words, something which was all too familiar to him in the past. He couldn’t help but feel this was a shame because one good thing his disagreements with Sirius over the last few weeks had brought was a weird sort of comfort with the other man, in which Remus wasn’t afraid to make his point of view known. This had now seemed to vanish.

 

He nodded in a reserved and resigned manner.

 

Sirius gave a stilted wave, which even he seemed to realise was exceptionally awkward. Remus thought he saw something flicker in Sirius’ eyes, but it was gone quicker than it had appeared. He abruptly turned and rushed down the street towards the tube station, without another look towards Remus.

 

Remus stood on the pavement all alone, already mourning the lose of the best opportunity he’d ever, and likely would ever, have.

 

 

 

Remus paced up and down his cramped flat that night in a slightly frenzied state. His thighs ached as he traced the same path he’d been striding the past half-hour, ever since he’d gotten home from the bar after a rushed goodbye to James and the twins. It was a task made all the more difficult by the alcohol still flowing through his system.        

 

What should he do? The Marauders were pretty much the best chance he had of ever making something of himself. To be something bigger and better than a son of a factory worker. He loved music, loved the music he was playing with the Marauders especially and he didn’t want to lose that. What was more, he genuinely liked these people. Sarcastic Gideon and relaxed Fabian, who couldn’t seem to go a whole day without some sort of argument. Gentle Hagrid and loveable James, even McGonagall, tough old bird that she was. And Sirius, Remus conceded to himself. Sirius too.

 

He couldn’t lose all that, he suddenly resolved to himself and stopped his pacing in the middle of the room. He shouldn’t lose that. Who cared he was queer? It didn’t impact the band at all. He was a fucking decent guitarist who had improved the band, as their recent show and review had attested.

Besides, James and Fabian didn’t seem the kind to really judge (in James’ case) or care (in Fabian’s case). He remembered James’ reaction to Dorcas, which had not been overly negative. It was really only Sirius that he had an inkling was not comfortable with it, and this had been shown by his awkward reaction outside the bar that night. If he could be the first one to approach them, before Sirius, then perhaps it would be fine. It wasn’t like Sirius could kick him out of the band if the other two members weren’t bothered. And Remus dared to hope that maybe Sirius didn’t hate him; he had seemed uncomfortable, sure, but hadn’t seemed to despise him. So, if he killed this humiliation before it really began, and everyone heard it from someone else, then he could be okay.

 

It would also feel nice to be completely honest and truthful with these guys. They were already on their way to being great friends, and a dynamic band- secrets like that would not help them at all.

 

A little more assured, and with a viable plan in mind, he determinedly headed to bed for a restless sleep.

 

 

 

It was a resolute Remus Lupin who entered Bludger Studios the next day. He walked straight passed the bitchy receptionist without a glance, and climbed the staircase at a steady pace, despite his heart beating like Fabian’s kick drum.

 

He was slightly later than usual, having had to mentally prepare himself at home, and James, Moody and McGonagall were already there, McGonagall and Moody discussing mixes for their latest track and James going over a few pieces of paper with his recognisably crooked handwriting on them. The singer looked up and grinned when Remus entered.

 

“There you are!”  He exclaimed. “’Reckon this is the first time I’ve beaten you here. I’ve got some new ideas, Hagrid’s just bringing up the keyboard ‘cause I thought we could try-”

 

“I need to tell you something.” He said in a clear voice. James closed his mouth and sat up straighter, while McGonagall and Moody broke off their conversation and looked over to him.

 

“Is everything alright?” James asked, worry taking over his face.

 

“Not, everything’s fine.” Internally he was berating himself for being so blunt- he could at least have built up to it. “I, er…”

 

He closed his eyes. It had only just then hit him, that this was really his first time really coming out to someone. He had met Dorcas through his expeditions to gay clubs as a teenager, and Emmeline and the Lovegoods through her. He wasn’t out to anybody else (Sirius finding out had obviously been an accident).

 

“I’m gay.”

 

It was the first time he had used those words unprompted at a time of his choosing. It might have been spurred on by what Sirius may or may not do, but it was still his choice to do this, to say this. The anxious feeling at the bottom of his stomach had not lessened but he still felt lighter somehow. A feeling of ease, which he had not been expecting, joined the apprehensiveness, creating an odd feeling.

 

His eyes were still closed so he couldn’t make out their faces, but he just couldn’t open them. As the painful seconds ticked by, Remus stood ready for whatever reaction he got.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and fought the urge to flinch, his instinct whenever someone touched him without permission. The hand gripped him lightly and then he heard a voice speak.

 

“Remus, open your eyes.” James’ voice. He didn’t sound angry.

 

Slowly, Remus lifted his eyelids and let the light pour in, momentarily blinding him. When everything came into focus, he saw James’ face right in front of him. The look on his face was one of understanding.

 

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

 

The words stirred something, he didn’t know what, inside Remus. He opened his mouth and rush of words came out.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something, I know its probably weird for you and I swear I’ll leave the band if you want, I-”

 

“Remus.” James said loudly in a sterner tone. “It doesn’t matter to me.” He repeated.

 

A tear trickled down his face. Why the fuck was he crying?

 

“I… I…”

 

And suddenly it was like a dam had broken and tears were streaming down his face for no real reason Remus could figure out. It was embarrassing that he was breaking down in front of someone he had known for like two months, and McGonagall and Moody to boot, but he couldn’t help it.

 

“It’s okay.” James’ hand on his shoulder tightened but he didn’t go in for an embrace or anything, for which Remus was grateful. James’ presence was enough, he felt that he still needed some space.

 

Eventually his chest relaxed, and the sobs lessened enough for him to wipe his face on his sleeve and smile weakly at James.

 

“Sorry about that, don’t know what came over me.” He said. “Guess it’s just something that’s been on my mind awhile.”

 

“No need to apologise.” James smiled comfortingly.

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” McGonagall interceded, her voice making Remus jump and James drop his hand from his shoulder. Now that he looked at her, Remus was surprised to see she looked unusually unsure, her face without its usually firm exterior but instead an expression of hesitance, even nervousness, was visible. “But I feel I should make a few things clear. Far be it for me to tell you how to live your life Lupin, but it would be best for the band, sales and image wise, if you didn’t broadcast your sexuality. It’s your choice of course, I’m just advising.”

 

“He shouldn’t have to lie! That’s not fair!” James’ voice was angry, but Remus had expected this.

 

“It’s fine, James,” he sighed, “I’ve been living a lie most of my life.”

 

“Not to say you have to lie.” McGonagall added. “If we’re discreet, the subject will never be brought up and everything should work out okay.”

 

“It’s not exactly that simple, but we can try it.” Remus said.

 

“It’s objectively our best option.” McGonagall said, all-business again.

 

“Fine.” James didn’t look happy but seemed to accept that it was Remus’ right accept or reject the decision.

 

“Honestly, you lot!” Moody roared, startling all three of them; Remus had forgotten he was in the room. “Get to bloody work. Am I the only one who wants to finish this buggering album?”

 

“Right you are, Moody old pal,” James said in a singing voice, to which he received only a grunt in response. He returned to his lyric sheets, unaffected. “Come take a look at this, Remus.”

 

As he moved over to view James’ work and McGonagall and Moody resumed their previous conversation, Remus felt relieved. Not only that it seemed James and McGonagall were okay with it overall, but also that it had gone back to normal so quickly. He truly hoped things continued to not change, once he’d told the twins- he honestly doubted Hagrid would have an issue.

 

Fabian was next to enter, and Remus was sure to be more tactful with his approach, rather than just blurting it out like a fucking idiot. After a few minutes of small talk with the drummer, he slipped in a casual comment about a gay bar he’d once been to. When Fabian asked for clarification, he just nodded his confirmation.

 

Fabian’s eyes widened for several seconds, before he shrugged. “Eh, you fuck who you want, Lupin.”

 

It was such a Fabian response Remus couldn’t help but laugh. Telling Hagrid and Gideon after that seemed trivial and their responses were also big sighs of relief for him (Hagrid hugged him, and Gideon claimed he’d known all along).

 

Sirius Orion Black swaggered in at close to five in the evening in true Sirius style. He had the gall to dress in an expensive long-sleeved shirt, and dark trousers with a gleaming pair of DM’s on his feet. Remus stared at him as he came in, daring him to tell everybody, to make some big announcement. He couldn’t wait until Sirius found out that he’d already told everybody, that he had been outmanoeuvred.

 

But Sirius didn’t do that. Instead he greeted everybody hello, including Remus, and preceded to act completely normally. It was baffling. He got out his base, worked on lyrics with James and preceded to knock out their latest song perfectly, even changing a thing or two. Remus spoke to him as little as possible and watched him closely. He waited for Sirius to do something, but he never did.

 

The acknowledgement of what had happened the previous night came as Fabian and Hagrid headed out to pick up food at just after eight. Gideon set to tuning James’ guitar and Moody poured over their recordings with McGonagall. James and Sirius had a quick whispered conversation in the corner, before Sirius approached Remus, who was sat strumming cords on a random amp.

 

“Yes?” Remus asked tersely.

 

“Chill, Remus.” Sirius said with a roll of his eyes. “James told me I should have a conversation with you and I think we both know what he thinks you should tell me that I already know.”

 

Remus was slightly annoyed at James, but he understood James couldn’t keep anything from Sirius and was giving Remus a chance to tell Sirius himself.

 

“Yes, I told everyone. I had to with what you saw, didn’t I?” He said bitterly.

 

“I wasn’t going to…” Sirius shook his head. “I swear I don’t give a shit, Remus. Like I told you yesterday.”

 

“Fine.” Remus still didn’t believe he was, at least not completely, but he knew he had to stay civil for the band sake. If Sirius had wanted to make an issue of it then it was a different story, but Sirius seemed to have gotten over himself at least a little bit, so he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Whether they could still be friends, he didn’t know. Not yet.

 

“Fine?” Sirius quirked an eyebrow, which he seemed to be so good at.

 

“Fine.” Remus nodded more resolutely.

 

“Great.” Sirius smiled a bit more genuinely. “Want to work on that chord progression again?”

 

Remus nodded his acceptance, but for the rest of rehearsal an uneasiness lurked at the back of his mind. Sirius seemed to be more okay than yesterday, so what had his reaction outside the bar been about? He had seemed so uncomfortable and twitchy- what had caused that? It could be the immediate shock at finding Remus snogging another man, but he didn’t think so. The already enigmatic Sirius Black had added another mysterious layer that just didn’t add up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song- Walk on the Wild Side by Lou Reed.
> 
> I'm not even going to try to make up an excuse for this wait. Just- sorry.
> 
> Hoped you enjoyed it.
> 
> EDIT: Also, I've created a playlist on spotify for this fic here:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/i9gc7i5i1ezzem46ckq16shii/playlist/7jsJgrxh3nsjtLB5jzriBQ?si=DPIadc-yQwS4kIld6aY_dQ


	10. Conversation, Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, decent sized chapter, most of it being a nice long conversation between Remus and Sirius!

_Please allow me to introduce myself,_

_I'm a man of wealth and taste._

_I've been around for a long, long year,_

_Stole many a man's soul and faith._

 

James’ house was located in a pleasant little street only a five-minute walk from their recording studio, that somehow screamed suburb without actually being in the suburbs. The street was clean with a noticeable lack of cracked pavement slabs, and the front gardens were well kept, many housing colourful flowers and luminous green grass which shone like a beacon in the black darkness. It was early on a Sunday night when Remus approached his bandmate’s house, situated halfway down the quiet street. He arrived in front of his destination, which was a red-bricked terrace house that Remus knew James couldn’t have been able to afford through the Marauders.

 

James had invited Remus around to his place for the first time, while Fabian and Gideon were visiting their sister, her husband and their new-born son somewhere in Devon. James had remarked how odd it was Remus hadn’t come over yet, even if it was due to their constant work in the studio, so had taken the chance to invite both Remus and Sirius for a ‘night in- with booze, obviously’, as he had put it. Sirius was likely already inside, though James hadn’t told him who else was coming, or if anybody else was coming.

 

He approached and wrapped his hand to knock on the large blue door. He waited several seconds, before the door flew open to reveal James’ bright face, already flushed with drink.

 

“Remus! What took you so long?” James thrust forward a hand to grasp Remus by the elbow and pull him inside. “We’ve already been going an hour, mate.”

 

“Sorry, took a couple wrong turns.” Remus responded. “Had to backtrack a bit.”

 

“Its all good,” James replied, easily. “Welcome to casa de Potter! The others are in the living room, this way. Come on, follow me!”

 

James lead him down a well-lit white hallway, passing several pairs of shoes on the floor and several other bits of clutter littering the area, including an empty guitar case, a stack of cardboard boxes and several empty glass bottles. The carpet that they treaded on was soft and relatively new, Remus remarked to himself, though he did notice a few stains.

 

“Nice place you’ve got here.” Remus commented to James as they walked.

 

“Yeah, my folks lifted me the money for the rent when we first moved here.” James said, easily, as they stopped in front of an average looking wooden door. “It was supposed to be for me and Padfoot, but he decided he wanted to live on his own when we got here and fucked off to some shithole of a flat a couple tube stations south of here.” He rolled his eyes. “Come on, they’re just in here.”

 

James opened the door to a smoky room. Remus followed in after him to find three people within- Sirius, Mary and Marlene. Sirius was sat in the corner of a blue sofa, that was pushed up against the far wall, a roll-up dangling between his dry lips. Mary was kneeling down near a cheap-looking record and cassette player next to the black, ornate fireplace, putting a record back into its sleeve. Marlene rushed up from seemingly nowhere to Remus and launched herself into his arms.

 

“Oh, Remus.” She gushed into his ear. “I’m so glad you’re here! We barely got to talk after the gig, and you lot have been stuck up in that grimy studio ever since.”

 

“And how would you know our studio is grimy, eh Marls?” James said with a wink to the blonde girl.

 

“Just an educated guess,” she answered with a high-pitched giggle.

 

“Nice to see you again, too, Marlene.” Remus cut in politely.

 

“Finally, someone with some manners! You’ve certainly got more manners than these boys.” She waved a hand towards James, then Sirius.

 

“You wound me, my love!” James called with a dramatic hand over his heart, and other arm in the air, as Sirius chuckled from the corner.

 

“Come on, Remus,” Marlene ignored James’ antics, and grabbed Remus’ arm, pulling him in the direction of Mary. “Help us choose a record. I swear if Mary puts on the _Sex Pistols_ again, I’m going to strangle her.”

 

Remus laughed as they reached Mary, who looked up and smiled at him. Remus could hear James engage Sirius in muted conversation behind him but ignored. If Sirius wasn’t going to say hello to him, he wouldn’t either.

 

“Heya, Remus.” Mary nodded. “you’re las’ here, so go on- pick your poison.”

 

Remus scanned the collection of records and cassette tapes which, while not as extensive as his own assortment of music, was still a formidable looking set; He’d guess there being at least forty records and as many cassettes there. On closer inspection he noticed James’ records were less varied than Remus’- it was mostly 70’s hard rock and especially punk, with a few _Beatles_ and _Stones_ records scattered in. Remus picked one- _A Different Kind of Tension_ by the _Buzzcocks_ \- and lifted it out from the pile.

 

“Good choice, tha’.” Mary nodded approvingly.

 

“Oh, I’m not sure I’ve heard it before.” Marlene frowned. “I just listened to their debut and I think a friend showed me their second one- _Love Bites_ , right?”

 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Remus said, as he positioned the record down carefully. “And their debut was _Another Music in a Different Kitchen_.”

 

“Aye, course it was. Forgot for a secon’.” Mary said, standing up.

 

Remus placed the needle on the spinning record and grinned to himself as the music began to play. He got up from the floor and turned to see James right in front of him, with a bottle of what looked and smelled like gin clutched in his hand.

 

“Come on, mate, you’ve got some catching up to do!”

 

 

 

“And then there were two.” Sirius said, nearly two hours later as he sat down beside Remus on the floor next to the record player; they were practically the first words he’d said to Remus all night. Remus had spent most of his time getting to know Marlene and Mary a little better, while James and Sirius drank themselves to a stupor in the corner. When the groups had converged, neither had said much to each other, except basic pleasantries.

 

“I suppose that’s true,” he replied, looking around. The bassist next to him reached for another fag- it had to be his fifth of the night, Remus thought, idly. The light in the room was low and across the other side of the room from them, making Sirius’ figure half-shrouded in darkness. It gave a chilly and eerie affect.

 

Mary was lying spread-eagled across the sofa, having passed out after her ninth shot. Remus watched as her chest rose and fell gradually, and moisture gathered at the corner of her mouth. She looked strangely peaceful and free of any problems like that, he thought. It must feel nice.

 

“Do they always end up like that?” Remus questioned, motioning to the doorway where Marlene and James had disappeared to on the way to his room ten minutes ago.

 

Sirius scrunched up his face in thought. “Pretty much. It was a nightmare on the tour bus.”

 

“I can imagine.”

 

They sat in silence for several moments, Sirius dragging on his fag and Remus taking sporadic sips from his drink- some cocktail mix of Mary’s creation. It should really have felt uncomfortable, especially with all that had happened recently, but it didn’t really to Remus. It could have been the alcohol, but he didn’t think so. He was really just tired of the drama and stress that always seemed to follow him. He was sick of giving too much of a shit.

 

On an unfamiliar impulse, he tilted his head to examine the man sat beside him. His eyes trailed over the sculpted jawline and red lips.

 

“Are you staring at me?” Sirius asked after several seconds of Remus’ looking.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Alright then.” Sirius shrugged.

 

“You need to shave.” Remus told him.

 

Sirius snorted and combed a hand through the light stubble covering his cheeks. “I’ll take that under consideration, Lupin.” He sat back so that he was leaning against the wall. “I take it you don’t think our style should be beards then?”

 

“Can you imagine James with a beard?” Remus asked. “With those glasses always half-knocked off him and the hair all over the place? He’d look like a fucking tramp.”

 

Sirius burst out laughing, an unusual enough sight and Remus raised his eyebrows at it. “Fuck, being a right touchy twat today, aren’t you Lupin?” Sirius chortled between laughs.

 

“I’m just… drained.” Remus sighed. He took another swig of the cocktail.

 

“I get that. I know I’ve felt that way; especially with all these late nights at Bludgers.” Sirius nodded, his tone quieter now and laughs silenced. His usual smirk soon returned, however. “I’m just trying to reconcile this drunk Remus, with the dancing on a table drunk Remus. In my prior experience people are only one type of drunk; like Prongs, he gets even more energetic.”

 

“Well maybe I’m just u-u… shit, what’s the word? You know, that means different- I’ve fucking forgotten.” Remus said, as he rubbed his forehead with the bottom of the palm of his hand.

 

“Unique, you idiot.” Sirius said, a slight laugh bursting through again. “How many drinks have you had? Or did you get into Prongs’ skunk stash?”

 

“No, but I want to now.”

 

“Maybe later- pretty sure it’s in his bedroom.” Sirius winked.

 

“Oh, they won’t mind.” Remus said; Sirius looked at him incredulously. “What? They’re busy! I’m sure they won’t care; we just sneak in and, if we’re quiet, they won’t even notice us. We grab the stuff and rush the fuck out of there.”

 

“If you want to, then try it out.” Sirius said. With a massive grin he waved his hand in a large arcing gesture towards the open doorway.

 

“Fine.” Remus said, just to spite the bastard. He got up slowly, his aching legs protesting even when he was fully stood up. He stretched his arms above his head and began to take a step forward when he felt a firm hand on his elbow, pulling him back. He looked around and glared at the perpetrator.

 

“I was bloody joking.” Sirius exclaimed. “Sit your ass down.”

 

“No.” Remus murmured petulantly. “Why do you even care?”

 

“Prongs will fucking kill me if I let you in there.” Sirius said with a characteristic roll of his eyes. “Don’t mistake this as some selfless act of saving you embarrassment; it’s a simple case of self-preservation.”

 

“Why are you never any fun?” Remus moaned dramatically as he collapsed back on the floor next to Sirius, who’s hand was still on his arm.

 

“Because I hate any sort of enjoyment, of course.” Sirius wryly drawled.

 

“You do.” Remus agreed, his tone solemn.

 

The record that had been playing, side one of _London Calling_ , faded out and Remus crawled over to the record player, Sirius’ hand falling loosely to his own side from where it had gripped Remus’ arm. He flipped the record over to side two and placed the needle on the edge of it.

 

Remus sat back next to Sirius and let the wall of sound wash over him. He closed his eyes momentarily, to focus on the music, and stretched his legs out with a groan, the joints cracking in protest.

 

“Did you just turn into an old man?” Sirius grinned.

 

“Go fuck yourself.” Remus replied without heat.

 

“I’ll be sure to get on that soon.”

 

The two of them stayed sitting like that for a few minutes; their feet just barely touched, and their arms occasionally grazed each other when one of them when to take a sip of their drink or drag of a cigarette.

 

“I was telling the truth, you know.” Sirius said abruptly, just as _Spanish Bombs_ ended.

 

Remus raised his head. “What?” he asked, blankly.

 

“Before.” Sirius said, looking firmly away from him. “When I said I didn’t mind about you liking guys. I really don’t.”

 

“That’s not what it seemed like at the time.” Remus said, his voice slightly harder than before.

 

“I was just a little… shocked.” Sirius squirmed. “It wasn’t the best reaction, granted. I’ve just not met a lot of people that… inclined.” He looked like he was choosing his words carefully.

 

“I thought you went to a private boarding school?” Remus snorted. “I heard all you posh boys were at it.”

 

Sirius fidgeted more, obviously uncomfortable. “Not that I know of. And it’s not quite something that was mentioned around my family’s dinner tables when I was younger- well nothing in any way liberal was, really. London was a bit of a shock at first.”

 

“I’ve never even been outside London.” Remus admitted. “Except for a couple trips to Clacton and Brighton when I was a kid.”

 

“Really? That’s shit.” Sirius said, bumping him on the shoulder slightly. “Anyway, I’m, er, sorry about how I reacted.”

 

Remus could tell apologising was something that didn’t come naturally his bandmate, and he was a little touched at the effort. What was more, Remus believed him. He wasn’t sure that shock was the only reason for Sirius’ response that night, but he was fairly certain Sirius was sorry, and that he didn’t care about Remus’ sexuality.

 

“Alright, Sirius.” He said. “Apology accepted.”

 

Sirius’ lips twitched into the real smile that was usually reserved for James alone, not the self-satisfied smirk that frequently adorned his face. “Good. That, er- thank you.”

 

“It’s fine.” Remus said, returning the smile somewhat.

 

There was a prolonged pause, before Remus decided to broach a subject that he felt would be ill received by Sirius. But for some reason he felt this was the right time. It could ruin the unexpected yet welcome contented atmosphere that had suddenly decided upon the two of them, but Sirius had dropped so many disturbing hints that Remus was curious. If Sirius told him it was none of his business (which it really wasn’t despite them back being on some sort of track to friendship), then he would back off and not bring it up again.

 

“You’ve, um, mentioned your family a lot.” Remus said, piercing the quiet between songs. “I take it you didn’t get on well?”

 

Remus watched from the corner of his eye as Sirius immediately opened his mouth, looking like he was going to instantly rebuff him. Then he stopped himself. Remus waited tensely as he watched Sirius stare at the floor for several seconds. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and looked up to gaze straight at Remus, unnerving in his intensity.

 

“I don’t think my parents ever really wanted children.” Sirius began softly. “It was just a way to carry on the family business when they were dead, I suppose.”

 

“Family business?” Remus interrupted, cursing himself internally a moment later but Sirius didn’t seem to take offense.

 

“Yeah, some property business, I don’t know, I never really paid attention when they brought it up. I don’t think it’s that big, to be honest; most of our money is inherited, actually. My family’s old aristocracy, dating back to the fourteenth century, as my darling mother so proudly reminded me all too often.” The bitterness in Sirius’ voice was obvious when he spoke of his mother. “We even had a seat in the House of Lords, before they reduced the number of hereditary seats and everything.”

 

“Fuck.” Said Remus. He knew that the rest of the guys were richer than him, but he hadn’t realised how upper-class Sirius was.

 

“I know. Anyway,” Sirius continued with venom in his low voice, “I hated it. My parents with their arrogant elitism, their fucking self-important friends, my mad cousin- you met her, she was with Riddle, remember?”

 

Remus cast his mind to a crazy-eyed, dark haired woman and nodded.

 

“I fucking despised all of it!” Sirius spat, his voice having risen slightly. “And things got, well, a little violent eventually.” Sirius coughed awkwardly, while Remus’ stomach lurched. “I got out as fast as I could. I ran away when I was sixteen.”

 

“Where’d you go?”

 

“James’ parents.” Said Sirius. “They were always good to me. I used to go there during the holidays and when I moved in permanently it didn’t really change anything. No better family than the Potters.”

 

“I suppose that explains why James is so… confident.” Remus said with a small smile.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Sirius sat still for an instant. “So, I stayed with the Potters until the end of school, my… b-brother too, when I got him out of my parent’s house.”

 

Remus started and looked towards Sirius, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know you had a brother!”

 

Sirius looked pained. “Yeah I… I d-did. His name was Regulus.” He looked like he was chocking out the words with difficulty. “He died.”

 

“I’m so sorry.” Remus said sincerely at once.

 

He felt horrible, remembering how he had insinuated Sirius had had a soft, entitled life in one of their many arguments. He couldn’t imagine how Sirius’ brother, Regulus, had died so young (he presumed he was Sirius’ younger brother), but he wasn’t going to push now. Sirius had clammed up and he didn’t look like he was going to say anything else.

 

It was another, anxious pause until one either of them spoke again.

 

“Christ, I’ve made this bloody depressing,” Sirius said, trying to go for humour. “You got any dark secrets, Remy boy?” He asked with a short, fake laugh.

 

“I was attacked once.” Remus said bluntly, unsure why he was saying anything. He felt Sirius do a double-take, turn towards Remus and watch him. “I was coming out of a club- a gay club- so I guess that’s why. He beat me up pretty bad, left me for dead. I was in hospital for about a month- told my parents I fell down my flat block’s stairs.” He said, ruefully.

 

“Did they catch the guy?”

 

“No.” Remus said, dully. “Not like the police care about a fag beating or two. I went through a bit of a rough period after that.”

 

Remus gripped his thighs subconsciously and tensed his shoulders. Before he could lose himself in his musings Sirius broke through, his voice oddly amused, yet still sympathetic and sad.

 

“Well, we’re both fucked up, aren’t we?”

 

Then Sirius started to laugh. It seemed strange in the circumstances, the bassist’s weirdly high-pitched, unnatural laugh filling the room. Remus glanced over to Mary, but she hadn’t stirred. Slowly, he turned back to Sirius and watched as his bandmate’s red face contorted in amusement, almost shrieking his delight. For some reason the laughter was contagious, and Remus’ mouth twisted in a smirk, then a full-blown grin and, finally, he started to laugh just as hard as Sirius, collapsing on the door as he did so. They must have looked like right idiots he thought, idly, lying on the floor hooting with merriment.

 

Sirius was the first to calm down, about a minute later. He crept over to the record player to place record two of the album down and put the needle on side three; side two had ended long ago, without either of them noticing. Remus managed to calm down his giggles just as the music started up again.

 

Remus sat up to lean against the wall once more and wiped his mouth. “What the fuck just happened?”

 

“No bloody idea, mate.” Sirius replied. “We’re both nutters, that’s all the answer I’ve got.”

 

“True.” Remus nodded. His fingers twitched, and he smiled as he felt a familiar urge coming on. “Has James got a guitar around here?” Music always helped, playing it even more so.

 

Sirius looked surprised. “Both his electric’s will be in his bedroom, but there might be an acoustic in the spare- what was supposed to be my room.”

 

“That’ll do.” Remus started to shakily get up, but Sirius stopped him with a hand on the arm.

 

“You don’t even know which room it is, you’ll just end up walking in on him and Marlene. I can get it for you.” Sirius said.

 

“Oh.” Remus said. He wasn’t very used to a helpful Sirius. “Cheers.”

 

Sirius waved him off as he made his way to the open door. One more trademark smirk over his shoulder, and he was gone.

 

Sirius returned not long after, just as Remus had finished refilling his drink. He carried with him an old looking, black-tinted acoustic.

 

“James’ first guitar.” Sirius said, handing it to Remus. “Parents got it for him when he was twelve- I still remember when he first brought it to our dorm; he was one smug prick about it, if I recall correctly.”

 

“Thanks, Sirius,” he said, sitting up and resting the guitar on his knees.

 

After a quick tune he started to thumb through a few chords and well-known melodies. He always found it useful when picking up an unknown guitar to play through a few simple songs, to get a feel of the strings, frets, tuning and the like. He transitioned seamlessly from _Yesterday_ to _Sunshine Of Your Love,_ and more, Sirius watching him all the while. He picked up the pace with a more aggressive _X-Ray Spex_ song, then into one of the many solos of his own making.

 

Finally, he started an irregular three-chord riff that had been whizzing around his head for a few days, though this was the first time he was acting on the thoughts with a guitar.

 

“Don’t stop that, keep it going,” Sirius interjected.

 

Remus was taken aback, but he nether the less obeyed and continued his uneven strumming.

 

“I like that.” Sirius said, after a few moments. “It’s perfect for a heavily accented groove on the downbeat. Fabian loves the shit out of them.”

 

“Yeah.” Remus said, finally stopping and putting the guitar aside. “It’s not quite a punk sound, though.”

 

“Remus, we’re not a punk band, no matter how much James wants us to be or our first album sounded. Punk’s heyday is pretty much done, anyway.” Sirius said. “I mean think of the stuff we’ve recorded so far. Sure, it’s fast and at times aggressive, but it’s also a lot more complicated than most punk songs. Our sound is a lot closer to some of the hard rock or psychedelic bands of the late sixties.”

 

“I suppose you’re right.” Remus said, with a frown. “But then what are we? We’re not punk, we’re not blues-rock or straight rock and roll- we’re certainly not new-wave. So, what are we?”

 

“We’re us.” Sirius grinned. “We’re something new, different.”

 

Remus grinned back and said, “That sounds good.”

 

“Great.” Sirius motioned towards the guitar. “Now get that riff going again, I think I have a few lyrics that might fit.”

 

With a smile on his face, Remus did so.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song at the start: Sympathy for the Devil- Rolling Stones.
> 
> For those who don't know I have a spotify playlist for these fic here:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/i9gc7i5i1ezzem46ckq16shii/playlist/7jsJgrxh3nsjtLB5jzriBQ?si=ir9ZKhnCRPWI2vIMIz1e5Q
> 
> Don't hesitate to comment or kudos! :)


	11. Resurgence

_Millions of people swarming like flies 'round Waterloo underground._

_But Terry and Julie cross over the river,_

_Where they feel safe and sound._

_And they don't need no friends._

_As long as they gaze on Waterloo sunset,_

_They are in paradise._

 

“But maybe we should rework that guitar melody in Hallowed Forest, I know-” James started to exclaim but was interrupted by Sirius.

 

“No, James.” Sirius sighed. “We’ve done all we can.”

 

“But what about those chimes we decided to use in-”

 

“Stop it, for goodness sake, James!” Sirius said, irritated.

 

“He’s right, James.” Remus interceded. “They’re all mixed. It’s in Moody’s hands now to do the mastering.”

 

“Fine, fine.” James took a nervous sip of the pint in front of him.

 

They were all- Remus, Sirius, James, the twins, Hagrid and McGonagall- squashed into a grubby pub booth, after just finishing the last session at Bludger Studios. After Sirius and Remus had finished their song (named ‘Free Roaming’), which they’d stayed up until the morning on James’ living room floor writing, it had been a hectic week recording for the Marauders. When Fabian and Gideon had returned from Devon, the whole band had been put to work and Free Roaming had turned from a optimistic, bright acoustic number into a powerfully buoyant full-band song, with a complicated bass line and one of Remus’ best guitar solos. The lyrics had apparently been inspired from when Sirius had run away from home and James had sung them with the same passion he had all their other songs.

 

They had then decided to round out the eight-song album with a long, near nine minutes, number which was mostly instrumental. It had stemmed from an impromptu jam session with the band but had quickly turned into something new. They cleaned it up a little, James added just one verse and one chorus, and it was done- ‘The Marauder’s Map’ James had decided to call it, though none but him knew why.

 

The band could do nothing but wait until Moody had finished putting it all together, though that could take a few weeks. Remus felt both relieved and anxious; he truly believed they had done all they could was glad that the twelve-hour days in the studio was over, but they were now powerless. It was essential this album was the best it could be, and it was strange for him to have to take a step back from it.

 

“So,” Sirius began, “are we agreed to have Free Roaming as the first single?”

 

“Fine with me,” Fabian said.

 

“Probably the strongest.” Remus agreed, Hagrid nodding fervently beside him.

 

“But what about the B-side?” James asked, raking a hand through his messy hair nervously. “Certainly not The Marauder’s Map, too long, but maybe Basildon Blues? Or Under Moon-”

 

“Perhaps,” McGonagall interrupted loudly, “it would be best to wait until the mastering is done and we have the finished product in front of us before making any decisions like that.”

 

“Come on, Minnie.” Sirius grinned charmingly. “Not like Moody’s going to revamp the whole thing, it’s only mastering.”

 

“You’re always talking about being prepared.” Fabian piped in. “That’s all we’re doing now.”

 

“Oh, very well.” McGonagall sighed, a mix of exasperation and humour in her tone.

 

“I reckon’ it should be Hallowed Forest.” Remus ventured, after a short pause in the conversation.

 

“A bit dark, isn’t it?” Gideon spoke up for the first time.

 

“True.” Remus conceded. “But, honestly, I think it’s the second or third best song on the album.”

 

“But too quiet and unusual for it to be a lead single.” Sirius nodded.

 

“So, perfect for the B-side.” Remus summarised.

 

“Sounds good.” James said. “Piggy?”

 

“Yeah, fine.” Fabian said, glaring at Gideon as his twin chuckled at his nickname.

 

“What about album names?” Remus asked. “We going to name it after Free Roaming, seeing as that’s our lead single?”

 

“Hmmm… don’t know if that sounds right, to be honest.” Sirius considered.

 

“I’m not sure…” James tapped his chin with his right index finger. “It doesn’t sound that bad and I can’t think of anything better.”

 

McGonagall took a small sip of her sherry, before saying, “You don’t have to decide that right away, however. Ponder on it a week or so, see if anything else comes to mind.”

 

“Righty O’,” Sirius winked wickedly at their aged manager. “You always know how to steer us straight, Minnie.” He clutched his chest above the heart dramatically. “We would be so lost without you, our great and wonderful helmswomen!”

 

“Our wise and beautiful saviour!” James joined in with his best friend enthusiastically. “The tough old bird who has never once failed us!”

 

“Old?” Sirius seemed mock offended on McGonagall’s behalf. “Why, she doesn’t look a day over thirty-five, Prongsy my pal!”

 

The rest of them descended into giggles like a group of schoolgirls. Hagrid’s booming laughter almost silenced every other person in the pub, as all craned their necks to locate where the loud sound came from.

 

“It is hurtful that you find him calling me young so humorous.” McGonagall cut through the snickers like a whip, though this did nothing to stop their laughter. Eventually, McGonagall quirked the corner of her lips in her own show of amusement, as she shook her head wryly.

 

Remus couldn’t hold back his happy grin. It was nice to see Sirius so carefree. He seemed to joke around in front of, and with, Remus a lot more since their night spent talking and writing Free Roaming in James’ living room.

 

He looked around at the people he had come to know well in the months he had been in the Marauders. Sirius and James were laughing at some private joke, James almost doubled-up as he wheezed in laughter, as Sirius clapped him on the back heartily. Fabian and Gideon had, predictably, started arguing and Hagrid was gallantly attempting to moderate; he was failing, miserably, but soldiered on relentlessly. McGonagall sat back and watched it all with a tired but fond smile. Honestly, he loved these people.

 

Struck by a sudden urge, Remus raised his hand to quiet the muted conversation that had begun. “I’d, er, just like to say… thanks for, you know, giving me this chance. Don’t want to get all sentimental or anything, but this has really been a fucking great experience and, no matter what happens, it seen some of the best times of my life both musically and with friends. So, yeah, cheers.”

 

“No problem, mate.” Fabian smirked.

 

“It’s us who should be thanking you.” James said. “You came in at a pretty fucked up time and you’ve made this band a lot better.”

 

Remus blushed. “I don’t know… it was a group effort.”

 

“It was,” Sirius agreed, “but you were a bloody big part of it.”

 

Remus shrugged.

 

“Everyone did their part.” McGonagall nodded. “I, for one, believe the Marauders really came together in the making of this album.”

 

Hagrid beamed toothily and raised his pint, which looked tiny in his huge hands, high in a toast. “To the Marauders!”

 

All of them followed suit, picking up their glasses and clanging them together in the middle of the table.

 

“The Marauders!”

 

 

 

Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody pressed the eject button and took out the tape from its player.

 

The band looked around at each other for the first time after forty minutes of silently listening to their finished album.

 

Remus was pleased with the way it had come out; the order the songs were placed seemed just right, transitioning from darker ballads to cheerful rockers impeccably and he felt all the songs were strong in diverse ways. Each song said something different in its own way and he felt that was the beauty of the album. You could listen to an individual song and take something away from it without listening to the whole album. And, while they all fit together, there was no overriding theme. Not that albums they did have a theme were bad, he just believed it worked better to do it the way they had in this instance.

 

“Well…” Fabian began, appraisingly, “Seems decent enough to me.”

 

“Fabian Prewett, master of eloquence and expression.” Gideon drawled.

 

Remus snorted.

 

“Decent?” James exclaimed, wildly. “Decent, he says! I thought it was bloody brilliant!” His face suddenly became worried. “Am I wrong, Padfoot? Is it awful? Oh god, it’s shit isn’t it? We’re going to be fired and left fucking penniless-”

 

“Bloody hell, shut up, Prongs!” Sirius cried. “Fabian’s just being Fabian.”

 

“It’s better than decent enough.” Remus cast a chastising look at the flame-haired man, receiving only a shrug in response. “I thought it was pretty great actually.”

 

“A did I.” McGonagall said.

 

“And me.” Hagrid added with an accompanying thumb up.

 

Moody grunted and said, “It’s above average from my experience.”

 

“See!” Sirius pointed at the aged sound engineer and producer. “Can’t ask for any finer praise than that.”

 

James appeared to gain little reassurance from this but nodded at his best friend slightly anyway. “We still need a name for the album.” The lead singer observed out loud.

 

“What about… ‘Boos and Tits: The Marauders Story’?” Fabian suggested with a straight face.

 

Everybody but McGonagall cracked up in laughter; even Moody had to hide his face to conceal a smirk.

 

“I hardly think that’s appropriate.” McGonagall bit out over the raucous laughs with difficulty.

 

“Just a joke, Minnie.” Fabian said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

 

“And it hardly relates to me.” Remus added, raising another few chuckles.

 

“In all seriousness,” James turned his head to look at Sirius imploringly, “and, please don’t make the name joke.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Prongs.” Sirius replied, impishly.

 

James sighed. “In all honesty, I’m thinking we just name it Free Roaming. I haven’t come up with anything better. What about you lot?”

 

Fabian shook his head.

 

Remus searched his mind for any last-minute ideas but couldn’t come up with anything. “Sorry, me neither.”

 

“Well,” Sirius considered, “I was thinking something along the lines of ‘Revival’. ‘Cause that’s what we’ve done, right? With Remus joining?”

 

“Like a new beginning.” Gideon nodded in thought.

 

“I like that train thought, but I’m not sure ‘Revival’ itself as an album title works that well.” James said.

 

“Resurrection?” McGonagall proposed.

 

“Renewal!” Hagrid heartily suggested.

 

“It’s got to be reawakening.” Gideon argued.

 

“Hmmm…” Sirius shook his head. “Don’t think they fit either.”

 

There was a several second pause, in which they all contemplated silently. Finally, Remus spoke up, a though suddenly striking him.

 

“Resurgence.”

 

Sirius looked at him searchingly, a look that made shivers run up and down his spine; unfortunately, Remus knew why that look gave him such a reaction, and he could not, under any circumstances, go down that road. Not ever.

 

“Yeah.” Sirius said, quietly. “’Resurgence.’ I like it.”

 

James was nodding frantically. “Yeah, me too. Fab, mate?”

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

“Then it’s settled.” McGonagall nodded once, a little tersely. Perhaps she was upset her suggestion hadn’t been used. “The album will be named, ‘Resurgence.’”

 

“Excellent.” Moody nodded. For a moment Remus thought Moody was actually complementing their choice, but the greying producer shattered that illusion a moment later with biting sarcasm. “Took you three weeks to come up with a name and you settle on that. Bloody perfect.”

 

“I think he likes it.” Fabian stage whispered to Remus and Gideon, who were sat closest to the drummer, but apparently Moody had superhuman hearing because the old man spun around quicker than a man of that age had any right to, and glared daggers at Fabian.

 

“One more word, boy, and I’ll shove this,” he brandished the tape that they had been listening to just ten minutes ago, “so far up your a-”

 

“Alright, you lot.” James calmed things down, as was his want. Moody grumbled and collapsed on a nearby chair, while Fabian shifted tactlessly away from him. “We’ve got a name now, a bloody good one, and, more importantly, a finished album. We’ve done our part.”

 

There were smiles of relief and excitement all around- even from Moody- and Remus knew, had known for a while now, they were into the final strait. They would win, perhaps even win big, or lose everything. They would drown or stay afloat, to put a dramatic flair to it. He had a good feeling, but none of them, including himself, knew what was going to happen.

 

It would all be decided soon, for better or worse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks.
> 
> A little bit of a short chapter, but this seemed like a good place to end it. :)


End file.
